


Here's to Us

by Slanguage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Assault, Bullying, Dark, Love, M/M, Murder, Past Mentioned Minor Character Deaths, Romance, Serial Killers, Victim - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 101,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slanguage/pseuds/Slanguage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The religious “vigilante” serial killer, Emmanuel Novak, known as the Morning Star Murderer, has been captured and has confessed to over fifty murders, though his actual victim count is projected to be more than Gary Ridgeway and Ted Bundy combined. </p><p>When his family moves to Lawrence, Kansas, in an attempt to get a fresh start, they don’t know what to expect from the local residents; and though they aren’t surprised by the air of distrust, they are surprised to find out why.</p><p>When the wayward, fearful Castiel Novak meets the loyal, trustful Dean Winchester, he never expects to fall in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Heaven Removed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! New story alert! I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> I'm going to attempt to update every Monday!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Also, in hindsight, here are the siblings' ages; Michael - 26; Gabriel - 22; Balthazar - 20; Castiel - 17 going on 18; Anna - 16; Hael - 14; Inias - 11; Samandriel - 8)

Father Emmanuel Novak was arrested May 23 at eleven in the morning in front of his family in their two-story home in a Pontiac, Illinois, suburban neighborhood. His children stood by silently and watched their father get handcuffed, read his rights, and shoved into the back of the police car. The detective had walked up to Michael, the eldest of the Novak children, and had told him that they would contact him with information of his booking. Michael told him not to bother, and the detective’s eyebrows had gone up, but he hadn’t asked.

Emmanuel Novak confessed to fifty-six murders in the scope of the Midwest, hinting that there were more bodies, more murders, elsewhere, on May 30. The Novak children began packing their belongings into cardboard boxes that night, all of them working nearly silently, lost in their own world, none of them knowing what to say.

Emmanuel Novak mocked the press and told them that he didn’t like the name of the Morning Star Murderer on June 14. He told them that he was not a devil, a demon—he was a god. He was an angel. What he was doing was righteous.

On June 15 and 16, the Novak family hadn’t been able to leave their house, in fear of the paparazzi that refused to move from their front lawn.

The Novak children moved out of their home in Pontiac on June 29, almost a month after their father had been arrested. They left their new address and their contact information with the Pontiac Police, and promised that they would keep in touch. Michael had looked like he was swallowing a lemon with a sore throat when the lead detective had patted him on the back and told him that he was sorry.

The next day, June 30, the Novak family stood outside of their new home in Lawrence, Kansas, looking up at it, at their new life, their second chance, but none of them really believed it. They could see the neighbors peeking outside of their curtains at them, and they knew it was only a matter of time before they began poking around. Michael had urged them inside, and the eight siblings had sat in a loose circle in the empty living room eating Chinese food, listening to the radio. Balthazar had leaned over and casually changed the station when the DJ had intersected to talk about the Morning Star Murderer and his confession.

The home had five bedrooms and an attic that could be utilized as one. Michael, although he was the oldest and had always been their true father figure, did not take the master bedroom, and instead claimed the smallest bedroom for his own, a small den-like room on the first floor that had obviously been intended as a sort of in-law guest room. They had all known better than to fight against Michael’s wishes.

The eldest four children had their own rooms—Michael downstairs, Gabriel’s at the top of the stairs, Balthazar’s adjacent, and Castiel had crawled into the attic space and claimed it as his own with no complaints. The youngest four children were grouped by gender and were forced to share—Hael and Anna took the master bedroom across the hall from Gabriel, while Samandriel and Inias crowded into the final room, which was connected to Gabriel’s by a bathroom. They didn’t need to leave room for guests. There would be none.

Although the rooms had been decided on and there was no argument, all of the Novak children spent the night in sleeping bags huddled close together in the empty space of the living room, none of them wanting to be alone, too afraid of the monsters they knew well lingered in the darkness, too afraid of their own terrified, lethal thoughts. Castiel hadn’t been able to sleep, but he had pretended that he was—even when he noticed Michael get up and sit awake, watching over his siblings, his responsibilities. Castiel never told him, and he never would have thought that he would be grateful for Michael’s concern.

Even when the furniture came, and their house became a home again, it hadn’t been able to fill the empty space where their father had once dominated, controlling, ill-tempered, dangerous. Around every corner, Castiel felt himself flinch as if expecting his father to be on the other side, but it never happened. Time moved slowly but surely, and soon enough it was the fourth of July and Castiel was huddled with his younger siblings in the attic window, watching the fireworks explode over their neighbors’ homes, none of them wishing to join, all of them aware of the looks they received when they stepped outside of the house.

Michael had found them all later piled on top of each other, sleeping like exhausted puppies in a heap, and all he had done was turn off the light and leave them be.

Reality caught up to them sooner rather than later when, by mid-July, their father had a court date set, was denied bond, and had confessed to even more murders in the name of his holy righteousness.

That night, like every night for three years, Castiel hadn’t been able to sleep.

*

Michael found work at a local law office in town, a small fish in a big pond, but the pay was decent enough and he certainly knew the law well enough; Castiel wondered if he had been asked about his last name, if they had known him to be Emmanuel Novak’s eldest son but, if they had, they had hired Michael anyway, and that was a large enough relief. Gabriel was going into medical school an hour commute away but had taken a job at a local coffee shop to pass the summer, and to spend his free days and nights, working to help the family. Balthazar had found similar employment at a family restaurant, and Anna had gotten a job at an ice cream shop. Castiel had wanted a job as well, a year older than Anna and more than willing to work to keep the family afloat, but Michael had appointed him to look after his siblings, saying that Castiel’s job was the most important of all of theirs, and Castiel didn’t have the energy to argue with him anymore, so he spent the rest of his summer break sprawled on the couch in the living room letting Hael, Inias, and Samandriel argue over what to watch on television.

Hael was fourteen and Inias was eleven, and they both understood, to a certain extent, what had happened to their father and what he had done, and they understood enough about their father’s behavior to recognize it as an unnatural family dynamic. But Samandriel was only eight, and it felt like the small child, just a kid, had stabbed Castiel straight through the heart with an ice pick when he looked up at Castiel sometime in the beginning of August and asked, “Where did Daddy go?”

“He was a bad guy,” Castiel told him slowly. “Bad guys get in trouble, and police officers make sure they can’t do bad things ever again. That’s where he is.”

“But he’s not a bad guy,” Samandriel had insisted, pouting. “Daddy was God.”

Anna left the room discretely, and Castiel was sure she had ducked across the hall to the bathroom to be sick. Hael and Inias were pale, conditioned but no longer brainwashed, but the kid didn’t know any better. He didn’t really understand, and Castiel had a feeling they would be paying a therapist for the rest of Samandriel’s life in an attempt to have him come to terms with everything that had happened in his childhood, like this moment.

“Sammy,” Castiel murmured, kneeling down to look his littlest brother in the eye, making sure he would not look away, clutching at his shoulders. “He was not God. God is bigger than one man. He wasn’t right in the head, Sammy. He was wrong. He did terrible things, and he’s never coming home.”

Castiel had wanted to tell the kid that there wasn’t a God, that there couldn’t be after everything that had happened to their family, all of the turmoil they had been put through, but Castiel figured he could only shatter the kid’s perspective on one thing a day or the future therapist would have to be twice a week.

Samandriel’s face had fallen, dejected, but he had still nodded and gone back to playing silently. Castiel turned and looked at Hael and Inias, who were clutching at each other, their eyes wide. Castiel couldn’t help but to think they were thankful. Like they had needed someone to say it out loud, to speak it into the silence their father’s commandeering presence left behind even in a house he had never seen, and they were now able to breathe again.

Castiel told Michael about what Samandriel had said when he got home that night, even if his eldest brother had looked so, so tired. Michael had just looked across the table at Castiel, exhausted, before he had closed his eyes, and he had looked so much older than his age of twenty-six.

“He’ll learn, Castiel,” Michael had murmured, his eyes still closed. “We all will.”

Castiel hadn’t slept that night, either.

*

The first day of school came too quickly. It had been like the Novaks were underwater, watching the world around them through a film, too distant to hear the words spoken about them in any clarity, too lost in their own breathlessness to understand that they could come up for air. The first day of school was when they resurfaced, falling back into a familiar pattern of organized chaos as all eight siblings hurried around the first floor of the home, grabbing packed lunches and backpacks. Gabriel tripped over a toy truck in the hallway and cursed for twenty minutes straight. Castiel had made a piece of toast and had, at some point, been holding it, but then it was gone from his hand, and he couldn’t be entirely sure he had eaten it, but he also didn’t know where it could have gone, so he was willing to accept temporary short-term memory loss and moved on.

“I’ll take Samandriel to the school care thing,” Michael told them, clutching his briefcase and a travel mug of coffee like a lifeline. “Gabriel is taking Inias to the middle school. Castiel, Anna, Hael—you’re with Balthazar. I’m picking you all up and dropping you back at the house every day—the firm offered me the breaks, so I took them—so, if you get detention or join after-school clubs, you’re either going to have to wait for Balth, Gabe, or me to get back in town, or you’re walking home. Got it?”

The chaos didn’t pause at all when Michael was speaking, but Castiel had the good grace to call over it, “Got it.”

“Good,” Michael said, grabbing for his keys. “Everyone got their lunches?”

“I have Gabriel’s,” Anna stated, and then she and Gabriel exchanged the bags via tossing them to each other over their siblings’ heads. Castiel’s head spun. Politics was more tame and organized than a Novak school morning.

“Sam?” Michael asked, nudging past Hael, and he scooped the smaller boy off of the family room floor and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Okay, we’re out. Good luck, everyone. Call me if you need me.”

“Bye,” Castiel and Balthazar called over their shoulders automatically, both of them trying to hold down Inias for long enough to brush the struggling boy’s hair.

“Yoo-hoo!” Gabriel called in a loud falsetto before breaking through Balth and Castiel’s grip and grabbing Inias by the shirtfront and tugging. “Big summer blowout! Let’s go, slacker!”

Inias let out a feeble sigh, but still allowed Gabriel to drag him from the house by the front of his shirt.

“Alright, cool kids, you good to go?” Balthazar asked, glancing around at the remaining siblings and grinning when they nodded their consent. “Damn am I lucky for getting the ones who can tie their own shoes. Alright, if all’s well, then onward!”

Castiel and Anna bickered for another two minutes about who would get the front seat but, after Anna punched Castiel in the chest and Castiel had tickled her into hysterics, Castiel was victorious.

“Permanent seating arrangements from now on,” Balthazar barked, unamused, glaring at the girls in the backseat while pointing sternly at Castiel. “No arguments. No buts. I’m not dealing with that every morning. I’m already getting a headache.”

Anna let out a dramatic sigh, slumping down in her seat, but they all knew her reluctance was for show.

Lawrence’s high school, named for the town, was their zoned high school, and was thankfully only a ten-minute or so drive away from their home, so they were pulling up in front of it in no time at all. Castiel nervously tugged at his dress shirt sleeves, pulling at his tie, as Hael hopped out the moment the car stopped, Anna sliding out after her, both of them hovering and waiting for Castiel. Castiel leaned down and grabbed his backpack from the floor, reaching his other hand to open the door, but Balthazar’s hand came down on his shoulder, and Castiel turned to look at him, halting his movements.

Balthazar looked distressed as he told Castiel, “Look after them, will you? I know they say they’ll be fine, but—you’ve seen the looks we’ve gotten. Somehow, this whole town knows us, and I know how kids can be pricks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Castiel assured him, pulling his backpack onto his lap. “It’ll be fine.”

Balthazar nodded slowly, not seeming as confident—and, if Castiel could be honest with himself, he had a foreboding feeling in his stomach that was begging to differ his outward attitude—but his older brother didn’t bother to argue. He squeezed Castiel’s shoulder before releasing him, letting Castiel slide from the passenger’s seat and came to a stop next to his siblings, throwing his backpack over one shoulder and waving weakly as Balthazar pulled away, watching him disappear down the road. Castiel reached out and nudged both of his little sisters with his elbows, somehow sandwiched between them as they huddled to him, their fearless protector the same as he always had been.

“Hey,” he said to them, grinning. “It’s going to be fine.”

Anna didn’t seem as convinced, but she took a deep breath. Hael bit at her lip, her bright blue eyes a few shades lighter than Castiel’s taking in the building before them, her first day at high school and her first day facing her peers with the proof in writing about their father and his evil. Castiel touched her back and urged her forward with him, Anna falling automatically into step beside him, and the three of them walked into the school together, Castiel steering them both toward the front office, no one staring yet.

Castiel should have known that tone would change the moment they entered through the front door.

The secretary looked up at them, a blonde woman of about middle age with a fierce scowl, and her eyes widened when she spotted Castiel and his little sisters approaching her. The three Novaks weren’t oblivious to how she reached up and gripped at the cross around her neck.

Anna immediately darkened. Hael shrunk back, trying to make herself smaller, and hovered an inch behind Castiel.

“Hello,” Castiel greeted her kindly, pretending as though he hadn’t noticed her display, but his nonchalance hadn’t gone so well, because he hadn’t bothered to smile. “We need our homeroom assignments. I’m sure you know our last name.”

The secretary reached out and silently produced a sheet of printer paper, with the three’s homeroom listings already organized on it, and Castiel thanked her dryly before tugging his siblings out the door and into the crowded hallway, Hael reaching out and grabbing his wrist for fear of getting separated. Anna’s glare sent kids ducking out of her way, and she didn’t fall behind.

Castiel found Hael’s homeroom first, and he and Anna offered her smiles and assurances before she was able to gulp and duck into the room cautiously. Their faces immediately fell when she was out of sight, and Castiel and Anna continued up the hallway silently, not really looking for their homerooms and not really caring, just the two of them in a bubble of silence.

“I have a bad feeling about today,” she told him softly as they climbed the stairs to the second story. Castiel nodded, and then realized she probably couldn’t see him, so he cleared his throat.

“I do as well,” he replied, and then sighed. “It’s probably nothing. We’ll be fine. If not, then let me know, and I’ll handle it.”

Anna sent him a nervous look as they stopped outside of her homeroom, her eyebrows pulled together in worry. Anna was the carbon copy of their mother, with dark red hair and hazel eyes and a thin, seemingly fragile frame, and he knew that she winced every time she looked in the mirror because of it. Castiel’s stomach turned at the thought of his mother and he pushed it away desperately, not needing to think about one more thing when he was already paranoid about today, and Anna bit down uncertainly on her lip, watching his reaction. Castiel offered her a small smile and nodded toward the door.

“Let me know,” he reminded her, and she smiled painfully before nudging him in the arm.

“Heard you the first time, Cassie,” she said, and then disappeared into the room.

The moment his siblings were tucked away, seemingly safe among a rather ignorant population of teenagers, Castiel breathed a long breath, closing his eyes in the white noise of his peers speaking throughout the hallways, the sound crashing down on him on every side, and he forced himself to open his eyes before moving down the hallway, wandering clueless, assuming that 220 would be between 219 and 221 but finding an unpleasant surprise when the number skipped from 219 to 225 for seemingly no reason at all.

Castiel doubled back and managed to lock his homeroom—located between 218 and 223, go figure—right before the morning bell rang, sinking into an empty desk at the window nervously, holding his elbows close to his body, afraid of taking up more space than he needed to. There were small pockets of friends or acquaintances in conversation with one another throughout the room, but there were also students sitting alone and silently, as well, so Castiel didn’t seem that out of place, the new kid on the first day of senior year. He let out a relieved breath, relaxing slightly against the back of his chair.

A figure to his left leaned in a little closer as they asked, “You okay?”

Castiel looked up, startled, to find himself under the scrutiny of a redhead girl with curious eyes, a tablet computer, and a Dungeons & Dragons t-shirt. He blinked, surprised she was making conversation, and then realized that it was customary to provide an answer when someone asked a question, and he felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” he told her, smiling sheepishly. “Nervous. First day.”

“Oh, that so sucks,” she replied, nodding solemnly. “I was new here beginning of last year, but it was painless. It’s weird to be in a new school and starting over and all that, but you get used to it. I’m Charlie.”

“Castiel.”

“Nice to meet you,” she told him, smiling, and Castiel could have hugged her for not adding a comment about his name if he wasn’t so hesitant about physical contact around people who were not in his immediate family. Charlie continued, “I’m not very good at playing welcoming committee, so I’m going to skip the boring questions and just say that I think we could be friends, and I’m comparing our schedules once Mr. Shurley gets up and hands them out.”

Castiel was caught off guard by the spunky girl, but nodded all the same, letting her have her way, figuring it would be easier like that and that it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend, and she cut him a bright smile as the fidgety teacher rose from his desk and fumbled with a stack of papers, thankfully not dropping them.

He cleared his throat and called the attention of the teenagers, Castiel figuring that they only went silent and attentive because they felt sorry for the mess of the man instead of out of respect of his authority.

“Most of you all were in this homeroom last year, but for those who weren’t, I’m Mr. Shurley,” the man stammered, nervously smiling a little too late, and Castiel might not catch all behavior cues, but this man was making Castiel look like a behavior analysis expert. “I teach creative writing classes and study hall, so, uh, some of you might end up with me. I’ll, uh, call your name and you raise your hand or something, and I’ll drop your schedule at your desk, alright?”

No one responded, but it didn’t seem to matter to Mr. Shurley anyway, because he was already stumbling over the first name on the list, and a girl was directing him to her desk. He almost dropped the papers again.

Charlie was called soon after, her last name early in the alphabet at Bradbury, and she gave it a cursory glance before grinning over at Castiel, leaning closer so that they wouldn’t be overheard when she whispered, “I may or may not have hacked the system to get me a couple of the classes I wanted. And I’m totally the one that ordered the pudding for the cafeteria. Tell someone on the pain of my worst angry glare, you hear?”

Castiel couldn’t help but to like her immediately.

Mr. Shurley stumbled back to the front of the classroom after handing a kid named Max Miller his schedule, and Shurley began to read, “Nov—”

Shurley suddenly cut himself off, his mouth gaping open in surprise, and Castiel felt his stomach sink, wincing internally as the teacher stared at his name, trying not to fidget too much for fear of drawing too much premature attention to him. Shurley swallowed heavily, looking up from the sheet of paper, his eyes darting around the class like he would be able to identify Castiel by him holding a butcher knife and the soul of a child.

“Novak?” Shurley asked, and half of the class was suddenly interested. “Cas—uh, Castiel Novak?”

Castiel anxiously raised his hand, getting Shurley’s attention. Shurley glanced at him nervously as he handed him the paper, and Castiel set it down carefully on the desk, gripping the edge, hoping and praying that he was only imagining the weight of the gazes on his skin, but he was sure he wasn’t, because most of the kids would at least be able to guess, and then the majority of the graduating class would be able to recognize him by the end of the day. Castiel swallowed sharply, silently urging Shurley with all the might in his belief to call another name, to move this the hell along.

And then a kid asked from the back, “Like Emmanuel Novak?”

Castiel felt himself turning red. He didn’t answer.

“Holy shit,” a boy gasped softly to his friend, not speaking quietly enough, probably not caring enough to. “I heard that the psychopath’s family moved here, but I didn’t think it was true, you know?”

“Your dad’s the serial killer?” a girl in the front demanded, looking more curious than alarmed, and Castiel wasn’t sure if her reaction was better or not. “The FBI think he’s killed, like, two hundred people.”

 _Close_ , Castiel whispered in the back of his mind, but didn’t let that show, only stared forward with no expression, keeping himself aloof and disconnected, halfway to the point of closing his eyes and thinking of England.

The students began to whisper, Shurley not knowing how to stop them, and the sound suddenly cut short when Charlie’s voice boomed, “Ex _cuse_ me!”

Castiel looked to her, surprised, and she was standing, glaring around at everyone, the kind of person who looked more like an irritated Chihuahua rather than a protective lioness when she was angry but still settling the matter with the harsh burning fire in her eyes, her lips pursed so tightly they were turning white. Castiel stared at her, not sure what to expect but still grateful to her for ending the questioning for enough time for him to collect his throats, trying to breathe evenly.

He wondered if Anna and Hael were having the same problem in their classes, and his panic increased tenfold.

“That’s enough!” Charlie snapped at her peers, her fists clenching. “Don’t be so rude to the kid—he’s not the one on trial here. So do us all a favor and shut the fuck up and just let the poor kid breathe, you hear me? Mr. Shurley, you have some more schedules to hand out, right?”

Mr. Shurley jerked out of it, turning a vibrate shade of red, and he cleared his throats at least three times more than necessary before he called out, “O’Connell?”

Charlie sank down slowly into her seat again, her chest heaving with her breaths, and Castiel stared at her like a startled deer in front of an oncoming car. Charlie sensed his gaze and glanced over at him, pausing for a moment before grinning and reaching out her hand expectantly, raising her eyebrows.

“Schedule,” she reminded him when he didn’t move, rolling her eyes. “Not getting any younger here, Castiel.”

Castiel was relieved, thankful, and terrified as he handed his schedule over to her, still not having looked at it with his own eyes, and Charlie compared the two schedules for the next ten seconds before the bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom, and the students were suddenly a lot more chatty than they had been earlier when they filed out of the classroom, leaning in closer to whisper rumors to each other, and Castiel wondered wryly which of them would make its way around the school first.

He hoped for the sake of his sisters that their words weren’t too harsh, because Castiel’s temper was only stable for so long before he snapped, and he was too much like his father when he got angry to want to cross that line.

“Good news,” Charlie chimed as they stood from their chairs, taking their time. “We’ve got math, English, and Chuck’s Intro to Fiction writing class together. Pretty sure you’re in the same history class I smuggled my friend into, but—Mr. Shurley, please pretend as though you didn’t hear that.”

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Shurley told them as they exited the classroom, looking like he needed a drink.

“Anyway,” Charlie told him in the heightened noise level of the hallway, sticking close as they headed in a seemingly random direction, but Castiel was willing to let her lead. “But my friend, uh—I don’t know how nice he’s gonna be to you, to be honest. There’s some baggage there, so it’s fifty-fifty. You’ll meet him at lunch first, though, so you can decide if you want to ignore him forever then or not, good?”

“Sure?” Castiel responded, flabbergasted by the events of the last several minutes.

Charlie patted him on the shoulder before grabbing his wrist and leading him into a classroom. “Okay, so we’ve got Pre-Calc with Elkins first, which sucks, but now you can sleep easy knowing you get to wake up and see my bright and shining face first thing every morning, so you won that lottery. Are you any good at math? Because I’m awesome at it, and I don’t want you to drag me down with confusion and questions, because I am but a lone wolf.”

Charlie seemed to have the ability to talk about nothing just to fill the silence and, as someone who was normally silent, to the point that it had occasionally been described as unnervingly so, Castiel couldn’t help but to feel an unexplainable relief at Charlie’s company, feeling a bit of tension leave his shoulders at the reassurance that one person knew about his father and hadn’t begun to avoid him—she had even defended him.

Castiel smiled at Charlie as she told him a story about how the seniors let loose twelve sheep into the school last year and one of them had broken all of the windows in one of the math classrooms, though no one would quite wrap their minds around how, and he couldn’t help but to catch himself wondered that he might learn to like it here.

Of course, the worst was still to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	2. What is Dark Within Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Here are the siblings' ages; Michael - 26; Gabriel - 22; Balthazar - 20; Castiel - 17 going on 18; Anna - 16; Hael - 14; Inias - 11; Samandriel - 8)

Castiel managed to get his schedule back from Charlie when they split up from math class, and he left her behind with a promise that he knew where he was going, but he didn’t even know what other classes he had other than the ones with Charlie, but it seemed to convince her enough. She wished him good luck, chipper and optimistic, before she twirled around and disappeared down the hallway, heading who-knows-where, leaving Castiel standing alone for the first time that morning. He crowded nervously against the wall, almost afraid that brushing against someone would cause suspicion and school-wide panic, and he read over his schedule again and again, barely able to process the words.

Castiel managed to wander down the stairs and into his second-period Psychology class, realizing in hindsight how terrible an idea the elective was going to be when they began to discuss disorders and psychopaths, but the advanced students in the college-level class at least had the courtesy not to stare when his name was called, and the teacher’s eyebrows only went up for a millisecond before he controlled himself, and Castiel was extraordinarily thankful that it hadn’t been worse.

His third class of the day was a gym class, and Castiel spent the majority of the time nervously measuring up a foreboding boy with a predatory smirk, knowing an asshole when he sees one. There was thankfully no role call, just a sign-in sheet, and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, not needing a whole gym full of at least a hundred students staring at him, too.

Charlie was waiting outside of their fourth class, English, with a bright smile.

“How’s the first day been so far?” she asked as they walked to take seats in the middle of the room, Charlie spreading out like an overgrown teenage boy, her legs tangling in the cage under the desk in front of her, her arms resting on the desk behind her. The boy at that desk seemed offended at the intrusion of space, but didn’t ask her to move. “I saw you had gym before this—how was that?”

Castiel send her a distressed look, and Charlie laughed until the bell rang.

Castiel lost interest somewhere around when the teacher began reading the syllabus word for word to the class like it was preschool story time, and Charlie hadn’t even looked up from her tablet when the teacher had called her name for attendance. There was another burst of static whispers around the room when the Novak name was mentioned, but thankfully this time no one stated his father’s body count, so Castiel figured it was a success.

Castiel was feeling utterly underwhelmed as he followed Charlie to the cafeteria, and he told her as much.

“What were you expecting?” Charlie snorted, rolling her eyes. “Overdramatic declarations? A picket protest on the front lawn? A riot demanding your family to get the hell out?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel told her honestly, frowning and holding open the door for her once they reached the large building, and she murmured her thanks as she slipped through. “I guess I expected it to be as big of a deal as it’s felt the last couple of weeks, you know? But no one really cares. They do, but not really—”

Castiel stopped talking, because he wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to say, but Charlie seemed to understand.

“You expected they would think you were like him,” Charlie deduced softly.

“Yes.”

“You’re not,” Charlie said, and then grinned sheepishly. “I mean, I’ve obviously never had the pleasure of meeting him, but there aren’t many people on the planet like him. People just aren’t like that—they can’t even be raised like it. You know?”

Castiel knew. It didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of his own reflection. It didn’t mean that he still doesn’t sleep with a knife under his pillow, still terrified of his angry father bursting through the door with fists swinging.

But he didn’t have to tell Charlie that. So he just nodded and let her guide him to a table in the back of the room, against a corner and overlooking the rest of the space, the perfect place for a people-watcher, or a predator. Castiel nervously sat next to Charlie, his back to the wall, and he glanced uncertainly at the young man sitting across from them, who was smiling at Castiel like the stranger he was.

“Castiel, this is Garth, resident quirky know-it-all,” Charlie introduced them, and Castiel smiled at him kindly. Garth’s grin back was large and goofy, so innocent that Castiel immediately relaxed, because this was the kind of person that could never be a threat. “He’s one of my surprisingly few friends. Since I smell tacos, the rest are probably all in line. Winchester best buy me a pudding cup if he doesn’t want his baby pictures leaked all over Facebook.”

“Do it anyway,” Garth encouraged her excitedly around his sandwich, eyes bright. “I wanna see!”

“I’ll show you later,” Charlie promised, grinning, before Castiel spotted two familiar figures walk through the door, and he was out of his seat in a second.

“I’ll be right back,” Castiel promised Charlie when she looked over at him in confusion, and he barely waited around for her to nod her understanding before he was walking through the crowd of teenagers, ducking around flying elbows and gesticulating hands, until he caught up to where his sisters were hovering a little awkwardly by the doorway, talking lowly amongst themselves. Anna jumped when Castiel appeared beside them, but relax immediately with a smile.

“It hasn’t been so bad,” she relayed to him without having to ask, and Hael nodded immediately in agreement. “I got a couple of weird questions that I didn’t answer, but otherwise people have been leaving it alone. I would kind of rather they gossip about it behind my back than to my face, you know?”

“Yeah,” Castiel said, and then nodding to his new friend’s back corner table. “You wish to join me? I met a girl named Charlie who is rather brash but friendly, and she defended me when some kids in my homeroom started asking some uncomfortable questions.”

Anna nodded thankfully, but Hael shifted on her feet.

“I actually have a couple of friends that asked me to sit with them,” she admitted, her expression uneasy, like it was the ultimate decision between family and friends and her choice would bring about the apocalypse or something equally as terrible. Castiel smiled slowly, proudly, and Anna grinned happily from beside him.

Sometimes, Castiel and Anna were confused as being twins, less because of their close age gap and more because they had most of the same mannerisms, the same expressions. Castiel could always tell when they did something alike because their other siblings’ would get this smile on their face, and Hael was desperately trying to bite it back now looking at them.

They probably looked like overeager parents.

“No, no, definitely go sit with your friends,” Castiel urged her excitedly, relief rushing through his veins, having expected this day to go so differently, but it was going so well. The tension was practically leaking out of his body like a crack in a gas tank. “You know where to meet us later, right?”

“Flag pole,” Hael confirmed, nodding.

“Have fun,” Anna called to her when their youngest sister turned and skipped away, heading automatically to a table when a gangly boy with dark hair and a wavy-haired blonde waved to her, catching her attention. Hael sent them an acknowledging wave over her shoulder.

Castiel sighed wistfully. “They grow up so fast.”

“It feels like just yesterday she was doing macaroni art in first grade.”

“And now she’s a teenager.”

“Not wanting to be seen with her parents in public anymore.”

Castiel and Anna both sighed at the same time, and then started laughing. He threw his arm around her shoulder and towed her to his back corner, where Charlie and another guy—this one a blond with a mullet—were watching them approach. Castiel plopped down onto his vacated seat and Anna cautiously lowered herself down next to him, smiling shyly around at the others.

“This is my sister, Anna,” Castiel introduced them to her. Anna waved.

“Hi,” she greeted softly, offering a kind smile.

Castiel could literally see the cartoon hearts pop out of Garth’s eyes. He would have sighed if he didn’t think Anna couldn’t threaten the teenage boy better than he can, so he just sat back in his chair and watched instead.

“I’m Charlie,” Charlie introduced, and then pointed to the mullet kid next to her. “This is Ash, who is my superior when it comes to the art of technology, which is saying something. And the one giving you the puppy dog eyes is Garth.”

“Hello!” Garth greeted her cheerfully, his smile bright enough to light cities, and Anna blinked against the beam before smiling back, warming up slightly. Castiel nearly rolled his eyes but was afraid that he might pull a sarcasm muscle.

Hands suddenly appeared, pushing Garth over closer to Anna’s side of the table, making room for an incredibly (to the point it was almost unfair) attractive young male and an equally as gorgeous female to sit down beside him. The boy, with brown hair cut short and bright green eyes and freckles, shot Charlie across from him a grin before setting a pudding cup and a spoon down in front of her. Charlie grinned at him.

“Dean,” she said, “you are the best handmaiden a queen could ever ask for.”

The boy, Dean, rolled his eyes.

“Who’re the newbies?” the girl asked, normally a statement that would have come off as a little rude, but then she smiled over at Castiel and Anna welcomingly, and Castiel just figured that he had somehow wandered into a group of friends with dynamic personalities. This was going to give him a headache if it kept up. He should have just stuck to being antisocial and been done with it.

“He’s Castiel,” Anna said, pointing to him, “and I’m Anna. We’re new.”

“I’m Jo,” the girl with the big brown eyes greeted. “This is Dean. He’s an asshole.”

“Joanna Beth,” Dean gasped. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Fuck you,” Jo answered pleasantly, taking a sip of juice.

The mullet guy, Ash, fake gasped. “I’m telling Mom!”

“You’re adopted.”

“Good job, Captain Obvious.”

“Don’t try me, Doctor Badass.”

Ash and Jo stared at each other across the table, raising their eyebrows challengingly.

Anna groaned. “Castiel, what kind of social circle did you drag me into?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Castiel answered gravely, watching the interaction curiously.

It wasn’t meant to be funny, but Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked on his food.

“So what’s with the formal attire?” Dean asked Castiel curiously as Jo and Ash went back to bickering and Charlie dug into her pudding cup. Garth was attempting to engage Anna in conversation, leaving the two teens to converse together or else suffer an awkward silence, and Castiel, normally unaffected by awkward social situations, for some reason didn’t want to leave the boy hanging.

“It’s what I wear,” Castiel answered, shrugging. “I was going to wear a whole suit, but Anna got cross with me.”

“You look like a tax accountant when you wear the whole suit,” Anna informed him before turning back to her conversation with Garth about if she was liking the town, her classes.

Castiel frowned, but Dean laughed again, and Castiel hated to admit even to himself that he liked Dean’s smile a lot.

“Where’d you move here from?” Dean asked, and Castiel, who was picking nervously at the carrot sticks Michael had put in his lunch—and wondering if he should just start packing his own damn lunch—froze.

“Um,” Castiel said, feeling his cheeks flush. “Illinois.”

“No shit,” Dean said, looking interested. “Like, Chicago area, or corn fields?”

Castiel huffed out a weak laugh but replied, “Somewhere in between.”

“So Kansas isn’t all that crazy a change.”

Castiel had to bite back his smile, his dark sense of humor making its way onto the surface, and he managed to sound casual when he told Dean, “Definitely not that crazy, no.”

Castiel had a clear view of the room behind Dean, but it was like the world faded out of importance when he was talking to his new acquaintance, too intrigued with a boy with a beautiful smile and bright eyes, so enraptured that he didn’t even notice it until Anna said, her voice worried and strained, “Castiel.”

Castiel’s eyes automatically snapped to Hael.

“Shit,” Castiel said, but reached out and grabbed Anna’s wrist before she could rise from her chair, pulling her back into a sitting position. Hael was seated with the same two friends as before, but now there was a slightly-familiar figure hovering over her, and her eyes were wide and scared and intimidated and trapped, and Castiel was suddenly greeted with a wave of uncontrollable anger at seeing that expression on his little sister’s face.

The last time he had seen her look like that, Castiel had been standing in between her and their father brandishing a baseball bat. Castiel hadn’t been able to walk without limping for three days after that, but it had been worth it.

And some dick with slicked-back white-blond hair and a creepy smirk wasn’t more intimidating than a man with more projected kills than the Green River Killer. Not to Castiel.

The gangly boy with the dark hair and kind smile wasn’t smiling anymore as he got to his feet between the white-blond boy and Hael, scowling at the older, but not taller, boy. The white-blond from Castiel’s gym class didn’t even seem phased—he actually seemed amused at the display.

Dean started to turn around, wondering what Castiel was looking at it, and everyone else at the table seemed to turn their attention to it at the same time. Less than a heartbeat later, Castiel was halfway across the cafeteria, his anger churning like molten lava under his skin, a calm kind of anger that he had seen reflected back in his father’s eyes time and time again, a controlled burn.

Castiel rarely got angry. But, when he did, it had the potential to be an explosion.

“Excuse me,” Castiel told the boy, smiling with fake patience as the boy turned around, seeming surprised at Castiel’s soundless approach. Castiel wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he was entirely sure the cafeteria got quieter, as if all of the students were thinking, _That’s the Novak_ , and were waiting for him to brutally murder one of their peers.

He normally kept his anger in check but, in this one case, Castiel couldn’t help but to feel like it would be rewarding to see this boy six feet underground.

It was thoughts like those that terrified him and kept him from looking in the mirror. Castiel could barely even look at himself, thinking of the person he was afraid he would become.

Hael looked otherworldly relieved but still frightened as the white-blond boy he was pretty sure was named Zachariah turned to entirely face Castiel, looking mockingly unimpressed, but like this had been his intention all along.

Of course it had. He couldn’t target Castiel when they were in class. He also couldn’t be stupid enough to approach him and start something when he was surrounded by friends, or at least people who may be willing to stick up for him.

He had to lure him out of his comfort zone, and into his chosen playing field.

Castiel was all too aware of the psychological reasoning of predators.

“I recommend you take a few steps away from my little sister, if you don’t mind,” Castiel told the bully, his smile plastic and burning. “She doesn’t seem to be enjoying your company.”

Hael’s friend, the boy who had risen to her defense, looked between Castiel and Zachariah cautiously.

“You’re the one with the weird-ass name, right?” Zachariah asked conversationally, smiling like his grin didn’t make him look like a sleazy car salesman. “Castle or something, right?”

“Castiel,” he corrected him patiently, more than willing to play this mind game if it got the asshole’s attention away from his sister. “Now that we’re introduced, I would like to kindly ask you to go fuck yourself.”

Zachariah laughed. Now it was no confusion—Castiel was pretty sure he could hear the bully’s voice echoing off the walls, the cafeteria quiet enough, and Castiel didn’t like the way this was going.

This shit didn’t happen in high school. This was like something out of a terrible movie.

Castiel felt someone hovering close behind him, but he didn’t look away from Zachariah, not caring enough to check who had joined them. Zachariah didn’t look away from him, either, his grin still in place, the iris of his eyes so dark that it looked like his eyes were black.

“No-vak,” Zachariah identified slowly, and then smirked. “You look a lot like your dad, you know that? What do they call him? The Morning Star Murderer?”

Castiel could have heard a pin drop. He didn’t respond.

“You gonna threaten to hurt me if I don’t back away, Novak?” Zachariah challenged, leaning closer, his voice turning into something like a growl and a purr as he asked, “Did your dad teach you a few tricks on his days off?”

Castiel just repeated calmly, “Go fuck yourself.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with the tax accountant there, Zachie Chan,” Dean’s voice chimed casually from behind Castiel, but Castiel was trained to hear the aggression underneath of it, his unwritten threat. “Maybe it’s about time you showed yourself some love.”

“Sticking up for the devil’s advocate, Winchester?”

“Sure,” Dean said, “but you’re also breathing your stupid all over my geeky little brother, and I’ll knock you unconscious if one of your meaty fists get another inch closer to his face.”

Zachariah and Castiel both looked at the gangly teen. Dean’s brother offered them a half-hearted shrug.

It appeared that even bully Zachariah wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight with two protective mother lions looking out for their cubs, because he just rolled his eyes like gosh are Dean and Castiel whiney before turning and strutting from the room, whistling as he retreated.

It didn’t take a genius to know that display had only been because he had wanted everyone to look at Castiel when he passed in the hallway and be afraid of him, or at least uncertain of him. Zachariah had wanted to make the student doubt him and his family, and Castiel hated him for how good a job he had done, but he didn’t care enough about that right now. As soon as Zachariah was a decent distance away, Castiel stepped around Dean’s brother and moved to his sister, looking her up and down, grabbing her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he demanded seriously.

“I’m fine, Castiel,” she murmured, breathing out a long breath like she had been holding it before offering him a small smile. “I can handle an over-grown bleached Smurf.”

From behind him, Dean laughed.

“You’re sure?” Castiel demanded, not as convinced, having seen this mask on his sister too many times before, but all them in situations that were much worse. Castiel couldn’t help but to want to skin Zachariah alive, because they had moved here to get away from that fear, and then he had gone and terrified his little sister, and Castiel could have spit fire.

Hael smiled at him and nodded, the fear dropping from her face, and Castiel wondered if maybe she had been more afraid of the possibility of what Zachariah could do then what he was actually doing.

Their father’s ghost was hovering in the background of their lives at every moment, and he was laughing.

Castiel nodded slowly before kissing her on the forehead, and he turned to face Dean in enough time to see Dean reach out and muss up his brother’s floppy hair, and his brother pushed him away with a frown like it happened all the time, and he was getting sick of it.

“You’re quite the knight in shining tin foil, huh, Sammy?” Dean teased, and Castiel felt his heart soften at the sound of Samandriel’s same nickname for a different little brother, and the thought that at least Dean might accept him because they would both throw themselves in front of flying fists for their little siblings. “Maybe you should cut your hair so it will fit under your helmet.”

The younger Winchester’s responding face was the bitchiest thing Castiel had ever seen.

“Thank you for that,” Castiel told Sam Winchester gratefully, but the younger boy was already shaking his head with a grin before Castiel could get past the second word.

“Don’t mention it,” Sam told him, his smile the kind that could probably cause a headache if stared at for too long. “Probably a good thing you stepped in before I could bash his head in.”

Dean snorted. “Wouldn’t want to fuck up your manicure.”

Sam didn’t even look away from Castiel when he raised his hand and flipped his older brother off.

Castiel managed a cordial smile, started to squirm under the level of outside scrutiny their exchange was getting from the students around the cafeteria, some of which were uninterested and turned back to their own conversations but some still lingering on the group standing off to the side of a table by the door, Castiel and Dean and Sam and Hael kind of all looking at each other without knowing what else to say, the outsiders probably watching just to enjoy their awkward silence. Castiel glanced around, paranoid, and people averted their gazes.

Castiel wondered if a day would ever go by without him hearing the words _Morning Star Murderer_.

He wondered if his family should have gone further to escape, or if it just would have made them more desperate and trapped to know that even people geographically far would recognize their father’s surname, the son that looked just like him, and they would never be able to bury their heads deep enough in the sand to deny that their father would always control their lives even from behind cinderblock prison walls.

“I have to get going,” Castiel told them, the strategy and the alibi already filing away in the back of his mind, just as he had been taught. “Still keep getting turned around with the room numbers, so I should get an early start with my next class. You all set?”

Hael nodded. “Found them during study hall.”

“Instead of actually going to study hall?”

She rolled her eyes. “I got a pass to go from the instructor. I’m not quite as much of a rebel as you think I am.”

Castiel nudged her before thanking Dean and Sam one more time for helping him out with the situation, to which they both waved his thanks off, and Castiel ducked back to the table where his tentative friends sat, still watching the situation curiously, obviously relieved that it hadn’t turned into a larger, even more melodramatic event. Castiel offered them a wane smile when he ducked down and scooped up his bag from the floor, and Charlie didn’t waste a moment before asking, “You okay?”

“Fine,” Castiel told her, smiling. “Don’t worry about it.”

Anna looked skeptical, but she offered him a tight smile when he turned to face her, and he took that for her letting him decide for himself, and he appreciated that at least she knew when to let him go. He nodded to her and wished the people at the table good luck for the rest of the first day before he ducked away from them, not bothering to wonder if they were watching him go—they were. Castiel’s skin itched with the intensity of the attention that had been on him, not used to people looking at him, trained to stick to the background and avoid confrontations like Zachariah’s that were meant to draw him into the spotlight.

 _It’s best if they don’t see you at all, Castiel_ , his father used to murmur to him, back when he was too young to understand that his father didn’t know everything.  _The shadows, the edges, is where they lose you. No one thinks twice about the guy in the back who is friendly and shy. Hidden in plain sight is what you are, Cassie. Use it to your advantage._

Castiel shook his father’s voice from his head, wandering the hallways and not really looking for his class, not concerned if he would find it or not, not caring if he just walked straight out the front doors and to his new home in a new town that didn’t want him here and where he didn’t want to be. Castiel stormed down an adjacent hallway and found his next classroom on accident, and he vacillated besides the doorway for a long moment before shaking his head and pushing through the door as the bell to end lunch sounded. The teacher looked up from her desk and smiled at him kindly, almost tiredly, and he offered a similar response before sinking into the desk in the middle of the room, fiddling with his pen as the students began to filter in, finishing up their lunch conversations, and soon Castiel was sitting in the middle of an empty patch of desks that everyone was pretending was an entire accident, and he couldn’t even bring himself to give a shit about their immature behavior, instead just dug a composition book from his bag and dated the first page.

Someone unceremoniously flopped down into the desk next to Castiel, immediately making himself at home, and Castiel looked over to find Dean Winchester yawning beside him, scrunching down into his desk.

“I’m shit at history,” Dean told him, looking entirely unbothered by the fact that the entire class could more than likely hear him. “Wake me once we hit the sixteenth century, deal?”

Castiel wanted to ask why. He didn’t understand why Dean, who he had spoken to only for a few minutes, had accepted him so easily, so seamlessly, and there was no questions asked. He wanted to know how it was so easy to accept someone when one is aware that the other’s father is a murderer. Castiel wanted to ask Dean why he wouldn’t just pretend he didn’t exist, why he would potentially ostracize himself to be seen with someone like him, but Castiel knew that things, typically, weren’t that difficult to understand.

Dean and Castiel didn’t need to say anything out loud for them to know that they stood on common ground when it came to their siblings, their family, and that sometimes it’s just that simple.

So, instead of asking, Castiel said, “Deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	3. So Shall the World Go On

Castiel waited until all of his other siblings had gone to bed before he went to find Michael.

As had become habit for the eldest Novak brother, Castiel found Michael bent over a case file at the kitchen table, only half of the overhead lights on and dinner still sitting half-eaten in front of him next to a refilled cup of coffee. Michael’s hand was buried in his hair, and his eyes were focused on the words in front of him. Castiel paused in the doorway, almost too afraid of interrupting his brother when he was so absorbed in his work, but right when he had decided to turn away and to tell him later, Michael said, without looking up from his work, “What’s on your mind, little brother?”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Castiel told him, passing the threshold nervously and taking a spot across the round table from Michael. Michael finished whatever line he was reading and made a mark with his pencil before setting it all down and pushing it at a few inches away, looking up to smile at him. Michael looked so tired. Sometimes, Castiel forgot how much Michael had sacrificed for this family, especially after their father had been imprisoned.

Michael had had everything going for him. But he had thrown it all away to work at a nobody firm in the middle of Kansas, all so he could support and protect his siblings.

Michael could have been the best of the best. He had instead settled with being the best of the average.

Even if Michael had left Castiel and his younger siblings behind for law school, even if Castiel hadn’t wanted to forgive Michael for leaving them alone when Gabriel and Balthazar estranged themselves and fed the flames of their father’s anger, Castiel would never be able to criticize Michael for what he did to make up for it. The moment that their father had become sloppy with his killings, the moment it had turned from an obsession of serial killers to a blatant practice of the craft, Michael had dropped whatever he had been doing and rushed there in enough time to stand around them a fortnight before their father was being led away in handcuffs.

Michael never had to ask Castiel about what had happened when he was gone. Castiel hadn’t even offered a piece of information, but Michael wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t hard to guess where the bruises and the scars had come from.

Castiel cleared his throat a little nervously before he told Michael gingerly, “There was a little trouble at school today.”

Michael’s eyebrows went up.

“Some dick in my grade went up and started hassling Hael when she was sitting with some of her new friends, but in hindsight it has become obvious that I was the intended target of his antics. The boy attempted to provoke me, but I did not give into his taunting, and he stepped down when a new friend of mine stepped into the argument and he was obviously outnumbered. It wasn’t a big deal, in the grand scheme of things, even if it has the potential to be, but I won’t let it reach that level.”

Castiel lost his words for a moment, and Michael sat by with a controlled neutral expression, waiting for Castiel to speak before he gave a reaction. Castiel took a deep breath, and then began again.

“It’s less about the harassment and more about the—Hael was just blatantly intimidated by the punk, and it just—it sent me back in time, I suppose. She assures me that she is unbothered, and that she doesn’t care about what the kid thinks, but I saw the look on her face, and I know that, at first, she wasn’t seeing some asshole teenage boy. And I think that’s why I’m telling you this. I can handle the jerks trying to push my little sisters around, but I’m not sure what to tell her about how it feels to see evil in life and it’s many faces differing from our father’s. I’m not sure what to say to any of our siblings when they don’t seem to understand what happened to them.”

For a moment, Michael didn’t say anything. Castiel wondered if his elder brother was under the impression the younger teen had something more to say, but he was finished. Castiel waited in the silence, watching Michael think, and then Michael took a deep breath.

“We are of our siblings who saw much of the true nature of our father’s evil, Castiel,” Michael said slowly, measuredly. “Our siblings may have seen it secondhand, but they were not truly under the same blunt as us, which doesn’t make their understanding and emotions any less than ours, but it makes their perspectives different. They are looking at this as a different type of victim. To Hael, you were always the one standing in the way of the monster. She may have felt some residual fear of seeing you in that position again, especially when she believed that it was ended.”

Castiel nodded slowly, considering that viewpoint. Michael was certainly not finished.

“It’s going to be hard for them,” Michael explained to Castiel unnecessarily, and they both knew that they didn’t need to speak the words out loud to know them, but it somehow felt better to have it in the open between the two siblings who had given so much more to this family to protect the younger ones. “They will have a hard time, and it is only natural for the drastic change their lives have taken because of these new events. These difficulties will be faced both externally and internally by a million different factors, and it’s only a natural part of life. It’s painful and harsh and I will find them the necessary help if they feel as though they need it, but we all come bearing scars from our father’s rule. Just—some scars are different from others.

“There will always be people who will look down upon us for our name while we are here, Castiel, and some of these moments may occur elsewhere. It will be hard for us all to shake off the dark rot of our lives in Illinois. All we can all do is to try our hardest to recover from it, and help each other where we can.”

“I will never let any harm come to Anna or Hael on school property,” Castiel informed Michael gravely, loyally. “Or anywhere else, of course, but I mean specifically regarding the boy in which Hael regards as an ‘overgrown bleached Smurf’.”

Michael let out an inelegant snort of amusement before recovering and sobering, leaning forward and appraising Castiel so carefully with his gaze that he almost felt as though he was on trial in his own kitchen.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to speak to you about what happened in Illinois before my return,” the eldest Novak began gravely, and warning bells screeched in Castiel’s head to pivot the argument as quickly as possible.

“This discussion doesn’t need to about that,” Castiel tried to tell his brother, but Michael swatted his protest away like an unsuspecting fly. Castiel leaned back as if to deviate from an actual attack.

“Every conversation we have had for weeks has been the two of us dancing around the discussion,” Michael stated the obvious, and Castiel’s gaze turned to burn a hole in the surface of the table instead of looking at his brother’s eyes. “I will never begin to be able to fully apologize for what I left behind for you to deal with, Castiel.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I did,” Michael disagreed, eyes hardening. “To an extent, I knew what may happen. I faced similar when Gabriel left for Boston, and I felt the aftershocks of Balthazar’s own escape, if you will forgive the use of the term. I—I realize now that it would have been in the family’s best interest to return home after Balthazar’s move to Miami, but I instead selfishly returned to my studies in Indiana rather than staying to make sure your lives were balancing normally on the scale of our father’s rage. I should have known what he would do to you.”

“Don’t,” Castiel whispered weakly.

“I should have known,” Michael murmured, tortured, “so many things.”

Castiel understood that thought—it was of the same that still plagued him to this day. They should have known when their father used to spend every Saturday with a different religion, a different messiah, and he used to tell his children stories of retribution and righteousness. Castiel should have known something was wrong when his father began to coach him how to stay out of sight, how to escape unwanted situations, how to be the monster in the shadows. Emmanuel Novak used to tell his children fire-and-brimstone speeches about righteousness and godliness and how he was more than a mere mortal. Michael and the three other eldest Novak brothers had written it off as nothing more than fanaticism and a declaration made in the heat of the moment.

It was until their mother went missing that the eldest Novak brothers, the four that their father used to refer to as his Archangels, realized that their father was not preaching smoke and mirrors. There was no trick, no heat of the moment. Their father was another breed, a dangerous kind.

And Michael, Gabriel, and Balthazar left anyway.

Michael went to study law at Indiana University in Bloomington, and he stayed in contact, but less and less so every week that passed. Gabriel packed his bags and left the night he graduated for the University of Boston, and they didn’t hear from him until Michael called him in that last fatal two weeks and told him he needed to come home. Balthazar two years later had high-tailed it to Miami in the middle of the night to study at University of Miami. Castiel had one day found himself the only of the Archangels that was still in the household, and, when Emmanuel Novak had realized the implications of that, he had lost control.

It was the first night that bruises had been left on Castiel’s body, and it had certainly not been the last.

Castiel had been the only force standing between his homicidal father and his four younger siblings. To say that some nights had been nothing better than a bloodbath would have been an understatement.

But it wasn’t until almost two years later, when his father had come home covered in blood that the pieces had finally fallen into place in Castiel’s mind, and he had locked all of his siblings in his room and had frantically called Michael in the middle of the night, his voice and hands shaking, to tell him what had happened.

Michael had shown up on the front door the next morning. Gabriel had materialized, pale and hard as stone, the next day. Balthazar the day after that.

Their father had been in nirvana for about ten days before the next visitor to appear on the porch had been the Pontiac Police Department, two Special Agents from the FBI, and a US Marshal.

And then the siblings hadn’t exactly known what to say to each other. So they hadn’t said anything.

Now Michael was staring at Castiel, wishing that there were words he could offer to make everything better, but there weren’t, and the two of them knew it well.

“Why did the three of you choose to stay?” Castiel asked, surprising himself with his own gall when he asked the one question that had been nagging him since the eldest siblings had been reunited once again several weeks ago. “I can understand why _you_ would chose to take the role you now hold, but why did Gabriel and Balthazar stay? They obviously didn’t wish to and, no offense to them, but their extended absence means that we are all unfamiliar around each other still, despite our familial bond. I suppose I am just curious why they wouldn’t chose to return to their own lives, why they would feel obligated to be chained to us now.”

“Oh, Castiel,” Michael said sadly, shaking his head. “They didn’t run because of the family. You must realize that they ran because of our father.”

“And now, our father is gone,” Castiel pointed out. “So what keeps them here?”

Michael said, “Guilt.”

Castiel leaned back and considered that.

“Guilt, and loyalty,” Michael continued, sitting up straighter. “The three of us kept our distance through fear of the unknown—Gabriel and Balthazar both chose to cut their ties to our father out of their irrevocable fear of the man. They left the family to avoid the inevitable mistreatment that would have come with them desiring lives so far away from Pontiac. I cannot fault them for wanting to leave, although I do fault them for what they missed when they chose the path they did. But that choice was theirs, Castiel. It was nothing you should consider, because it is their choice of if they regret it, or if they do not. As they both chose to stay with the family now, I think you and I both know where their thoughts continue to stay.”

Castiel didn’t comment. He didn’t need to.

“This will not get easier, Castiel,” Michael told him honestly, sighing. “It may not get easy until long after our father is sentenced to the inevitable lifetime sentences that will befall upon him in the system of justice. You must understand why Gabriel, Balthazar, and myself had thought that the only solution would be to run.”

Castiel understood. He knew that, logically, it was the reasoning that made sense. But he couldn’t help but to continue to perceive it as cowardice, plain and simple, despite knowing that it wasn’t always that simple to discern the truth behind actions so deeply complicated as those.

“It ripped us apart every single day we were gone,” Michael whispered, closing his eyes, and Castiel couldn’t help but to notice the strain of age on his elder brother that was much heavier than a man his age should have shown. “I can guarantee that Gabriel and Balthazar would have returned if we would have known what was happening at home. I give you my word on that.”

“I believe you,” Castiel replied.

“I feel as though I have let you down so terribly, Castiel, you especially. I wish there was some way I could apologize for it.”

“Michael,” Castiel murmured, shaking his head, “you are doing more than enough to make up for it. I was strong for them when I needed to be—and now you and Gabriel and Balthazar are adding to that strength. The four of us are giving them hope again. That’s more than I could ever ask of you three.”

“I am still sorry,” Michael informed him shamefully.

Castiel took a deep breath before he softly replied, “We all are, for different reasons. And we all will be for a long time. But we don’t have to be.”

Michael didn’t say anything. And then he whispered, “You should get some sleep.”

Castiel nodded and left the room behind without another word, not needing to glance behind him to know that Michael was watching him walk away. Castiel didn’t care. He had enough to think about as it was.

~*~

Castiel was still wide awake at whatever early hour of the morning that Inias stumbled up the stairs to his room, and Castiel was on his feet and walking to greet his little brother before he even made it to the top of the stairs.

“Inias?” Castiel murmured, looking his little brother up and down. His hair was mussed, his eyes were thick with sleep, and his shirt was rumpled. Inias looked pale in the dark. It reminded Castiel of a ghost. “What’s wrong?”

“I get nightmares,” Inias blurted out almost without thinking about it, and he flinched a little when he realized what he had said, but he continued to talk nonetheless, his words spilling out like water falling through the cracked walls of a dam. “It has Dad in it and sometimes he’s yelling at me, and sometimes he’s yelling at you, and it—I know it’s not real, and I know he’s in jail and I know what he did, but it feels like he isn’t, you know? It feels like it was all a dream, and I’m going to wake up and we’re all going to be sleeping on your bed like we did those last two weeks and you’re going to be sitting awake at the door, and we’ll still be scared.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. He just crossed the scarce space between him and his brother and pulled the younger boy into his arms, squeezing tight, offering what he couldn’t say in words in touch, and it seemed to be enough. Inias shuttered before accepting Castiel’s embrace, winding his arms tight around Castiel’s middle, and the two brothers just stood there like that for a moment, both of them seeking the knowledge of safety in the other.

It took a long moment before Castiel pulled away, moving his hands to Inias’s shoulders, and his gaze met the younger boy’s with determination, professionally hiding the sick feeling in his stomach to know that his brother still has nightmares about the nightmare that Castiel had lived in real time for a year and nine months.

“Inias,” Castiel said softly, squeezing his brother’s shoulders, “he’s not coming for us—he’s never coming back. You hear me? He’s gone and he’s not coming back. You don’t have to worry about any of that happening anymore. Okay?”

Slowly, Inias nodded.

“No matter what, I’ll be here to protect you and Sammy and our sisters, you hear me? No matter what. Me and Michael and Gabriel and Balthazar will be here for this family from now on, and we will do anything and everything for you four. We aren’t going anywhere, not like last time. We’ll protect you all. Nothing like that will ever happen under a Novak roof for the rest of eternity.”

Inias couldn’t help the tears that slipped from his eyes, but Castiel didn’t comment on them. He just tugged his little brother until his legs went to jelly, and Castiel guided him to his bed, letting his little brother curl up under the sheets, huddled together protectively. Castiel slid into the covers next to him, pressing into his side, the silent protector over his family the way he had always been, and Castiel didn’t bother to count the minutes before Inias relaxed and was lulled far enough into security that he managed to drift off again. And, still, Castiel did not sleep.

As if there was a signal in the sky, Castiel’s door opened about five minutes later and the shuffling sound of socks on the stairs were telling. Hael appeared moments later, looking sleepy but uneasy, and they didn’t even exchange a word as she crawled under the covers and burrowed against Castiel’s side, hugging him tightly, and he rubbed her back softly until he felt her relax, too, her hand still curled tightly into his shirt, and Castiel wished that he was a protector enough to wish his siblings’ night terrors away for good.

But he couldn’t—so he did the only thing he could do, and he offered them the silent reassurance that they wouldn’t admit they needed, but all three of them knew that they needed it like a drug.

Castiel didn’t sleep. Anna wandered in and flopped down on the bed about thirty minutes after Hael had drifted off, and the fit was tight on the queen mattress but it was the way the siblings had been sleeping for almost two years now—collapsed on top of each other like exhausted puppies, their limbs tangled together, on top of each other, warm and reassuring and home. It was something Castiel had become so accustomed to that he almost didn’t know what he would do without it.

So he did what he knew best, and he watched over them.

~*~

“You look like shit,” Charlie told him the moment he walked into their early-morning mathematics class. The teacher looked up from his desk and shot her a warning glare that she characteristically ignored, her eyes narrowing worriedly as Castiel sunk into his desk beside her. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t sleep sometimes,” Castiel told her honestly, and then shrugged like it wasn’t important. “Tonight wasn’t my lucky night, it seems.”

Charlie looked like she wanted to ask, like she wanted to call out his bullshit right there on the spot, but she paused the moment she opened her mouth to start giving him the third degree. She snapped her mouth shut and frowned, staring at him like he was a difficult, complex Calculus equation, before she just silently shook her head, taking a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a handful of seconds too long, almost looking defeated.

Castiel watched her the entire time, curious. He hadn’t known many people as expressive, as in tune to their emotions, as Charlie Bradbury was. He found it refreshing, and he found it entirely intriguing.

“Dean told me that you two got along,” Charlie changed the subject, immediately perking up with a bright smile. “I had a feeling you would, but sometimes Dean is—people usually think he’s just being a dick, which he kinda is, but not always in a bad way, you know? I didn’t know how you two would interact like, since you’re so mellow, but he just scoffed and told me not to pry into his personal life when I asked questions, which was simply insulting. He acts like I don’t have copies of his naked baby pictures on my hard drive or something.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to smile, and that was enough to encourage Charlie’s shenanigans.

“Did you have any homework yesterday?” she asked him while digging out her tablet from her backpack, flicking it open and setting it on her desk in the telling movement of someone who did this small act often. “I had to read three chapters of history, so it wasn’t too bad, but it was a bummer, you know? It’s the first day, and it’s barely even an honors class. I was simply insulted that the teacher assumed that I housed the necessary intelligence.”

Castiel laughed before informing Charlie that he had, in fact, not had any homework. She seemed simply distraught.

“So unfair,” she whined, and then sighed. “I totally hacked myself into the wrong classes, dude. I fudged up.”

Mr. Elkins stood up and called the class to attention right then, Castiel not even having consciously noticed the bell had rung, so the two of them fell silent, paying attention to the lecture at hand and taking notes; despite Charlie’s claims that she wasn’t a good student, she certainly showed an interest in academics, and Castiel couldn’t help his fond feelings when it came to his new friend.

They worked in silence until the bell, and then, when they split for the next several hours of the morning, Castiel didn’t even realize until he was walking into his second period class what Charlie had done, and then he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face.

Charlie had chosen to distract him instead of to pry for the information. She had chosen to respect his space, but had worked at the same time to take his mind off of whatever had been bothering him.

Castiel, having been surrounded by darkness and hatred for the majority of his life, still sometimes couldn’t believe the enormity of kindness in people.

Despite his best effort, Castiel slept through his second and third period classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening to the new Fall Out Boy song is truly a religious experience.
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	4. A Heaven of Hell

The remainder of the week, thankfully, passed with little incident. Castiel was only woken twice more by a sibling wandering into his room and crawling under the sheets of his bed, but he still managed to get a couple of hours a night, and that was better than nothing. The Smurf, Zachariah, kept his distance, Castiel only catching him every once in a while glancing toward him as if measuring him up, and Castiel was only a little disturbed by the level of scrutiny his classmate was showing in his direction. Charlie was convinced that it was a stare of some kind of creepy desire, but Castiel was sure it was of predatory hunger, like a vulture that wanted to pick Castiel’s bones clean.

Either way, he was an unsettling addition to high school, but everything still passed with grace and ease, to the point that Castiel found himself waking up after a full night’s rest on Saturday morning not knowing what to do with himself.

Castiel, even before the constant paranoia of his broken household, had always been an early riser, tending to restfully wake around the same time that the dawn broke, and today was no exception to the rule. He blinked the sun out of his eyes and laid in his bed for another several minutes of pure exhaustion before rolling off the side and heading for the stairs.

Michael was the only one awake, scuttling around quietly in the kitchen as he attempted to ready himself for another day at the office, working long shifts for the extra money and experience. He jumped when he turned around and found Castiel sleepily standing in the doorway, staring at him blearily. Michael automatically smiled sheepishly, as if he had somehow managed to wake Castiel up through the distance of the extra story.

“Good morning,” Michael greeted, turning back around and pouring hot coffee into a thermos. “Did you sleep?”

“For once,” Castiel conceded, stepping into the kitchen awkwardly before folding himself into one of the kitchen chairs, laying his arms on the table in front of him as he watched Michael’s movements, already seeing habit inside of the new house. “You sleep alright?”

“Fine and dandy,” Michael replied distractedly, frantically fixing himself a lunch.

It was the first time the two of them had been in a room alone together since their awkward discussion on Monday about the state of the Novak family hierarchy with Castiel at the sibling helm in the face of their father’s irate loss of control. Castiel hadn’t exactly been actively avoiding his brother, but he was certainly more than a little thankful at how busy the house of eight usually tended to be, thus rarely leaving one with a moment of peace. To Castiel, it was a haven to live in this house.

The crowd typically made it easy to avoid someone even when looking at them across the room.

Castiel probably should have considered that he may have company in the kitchen before he chose to migrate down into the house for the morning. Alas, it was too late now, and Michael was already taking precious seconds out of his morning routine to gaze across the space at Castiel, frowning like he could see right into his mind and soul.

Castiel stared back, entirely unperturbed.

“School going well?” Michael asked casually.

Castiel nodded. “Classes aren’t too bad. Anna and I have managed to find some great friends. It’s better than I figured it would be, in any case.”

“No more altercations?”

“None.”

Michael nodded slowly, looking like he wanted to ask more questions, but his hand was automatically reaching toward his briefcase on the counter, and his face contorted into an expression of sheepishness. “I would really like to talk more, Castiel, but I have to get going—do you have any plans today? Perhaps with your friends, or with Anna or another sibling?”

“Anna is working,” Castiel enlightened his eldest brother. “Gabriel didn’t come home last night, and Balthazar intends to study all day and watch over Inias and Sammy. Of Hael’s plans, I am unsure.”

Michael blinked, like he had no idea that Castiel paid so much attention, but he didn’t ask. “How about you go for a run, then? I noticed that it’s been a while.”

Castiel had long since gone for long, exhausting runs on his days off, typically in the early morning or later in the day, or both—whichever struck his fancy, and whichever his stamina allowed. Castiel used to run marathons for charity, and sometimes for fun, but he had gotten out of training in the last several weeks since the morning of blood and laughter and fear. Perhaps, though, it was about time Castiel shifted his Saturdays from his father’s religion and into something that he tended to enjoy, and would at least get him out of the house.

He considered.

Michael seemed to interpret his silence as irritation, and he casted Castiel an apologetic look over his shoulder when he tried to uselessly explain, “I just feel as though you miss it sometimes. And it’s unfair of me to want you around for your siblings at all hours of the day.”

Castiel nodded slowly, but still didn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you later, brother,” Michael wished, waving at Castiel before he ducked out of the front door, closing it softly behind him, and he left Castiel to sit in a buzzing silence, accompanied only by the occasional sound of cars passing by on the street and the world waking up around him. Castiel got up and made himself toast before flopping back down into his chair, chewing slowly and thinking.

He figured it wouldn’t hurt to do something for fun. It might even allow him a chance to get a good look at his new town—he had rarely ventured out except for a few trips to the grocery store with Balthazar, and to get to the school.

Castiel got to his feet with newfound determination at the same time the front door opened quietly, and he wandered to the doorway to gaze around the corner, his eyebrows rising as he spotted Gabriel stumbling through the door, his clothes rumpled and wearing a smirk that could only signify a Walk of Shame/Success. Gabriel caught his eye, and his grin widened.

“You disgust me,” Castiel told him plainly, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. Gabriel burst out laughing and then quieted himself quickly, muffling it behind his hand. His eyes sparkled mischievously, and Castiel had a feeling that he had not picked his battle well.

“It only disgusts you, Cassie,” Gabriel purred, “because you’re into boys and their toys.”

“It’s definitely too early for this,” Castiel decided out loud to himself, and he turned and ascended the stairs, leaving his older brother howling with laughter in the foyer all by himself.

~*~

Once Castiel closed the front door behind him and took in a long breath of fresh air, he let himself wonder what had taken him so long to get back to this.

He knew a lot of people that gave him withered, tortured looks when he told them that he enjoyed running, but he would never be able to understand their sorrow when it came down to it. There was nothing quite like the stretch of muscles, of the silence and understanding between a person and nature, or the rhythmic sound of sneakers hitting the pavement. There wasn’t a thing in the world that felt like the rapid beating of a heart did, or the way it felt to run against the push of a relentless wind.

And Castiel wasn’t even around the block yet.

It was early September, so the heat was dissipating in this unfamiliar Kansas town, but the sun still bore down relentlessly onto the skin on the back of Castiel’s neck, left vulnerable by the collar of his t-shirt, but Castiel ignored the heat, remembering long and hot Illinois summers and hours spent outdoors whenever their father wasn’t home, running miles upon miles in a personal illusion to himself that he would be able to run away from everything that was piling up at home, only for him to have to turn back around and step right back into the madness.

This time, he didn’t want to run away, but it also felt like he could—Castiel was unfamiliar with the streets in this city, practically completely turned around in his location from the second he merged onto another street, and he knew it would already take him a bit of time to get back, but this would be a good learning experience. Castiel was lost in this town, and he could pretend that he was just stopping by, that some people wouldn’t be sitting on their porches and watching him pass thinking about how that must be one of the Novak boys. Running without a destination was freeing, made him feel like he could come alive.

It was the closest to flying that he would ever get, and Castiel was willing to take it.

His arms pumped as he gazed around at the Lawrence homes and shops as he passed them, curious about the town, always too intimidated in the idea of getting recognized or ridiculed to really go out and explore his new home. The weather was glorious, a big blue sky with puffy white clouds, not a hint of rain, as if the earth wanted him to be at peace with this town, and Castiel couldn’t help but to feel more open to it when it was something so expansive and beautiful. The homes were all different, so much other than the cookie-cutter suburbs where they had lived in Pontiac, and Castiel marveled in the differences, intrigued at how different a town can be only four hundred and fifty miles away from each other.

Lawrence was a nice little town filled with assortments of neighborhoods and more trees that Castiel had expected to find in Kansas. Anna had told him that the downtown area was extremely quaint, lined with trees and always lit up nicely at night, but he hadn’t seen it, and he already didn’t know what direction he was going in, so he didn’t know how to go there to see if she was right. He pumped his feet evenly, looking around at the neighborhoods and at the occasional restaurants and shops as he passed them by, street signs meaning less than nothing.

Castiel had been so sure he would hate this town. He was sure that despite its differences, it would feel like Pontiac, and the monster that haunted him there would follow him here, but this place had an entirely different atmosphere about it. This place felt pure, kind. It felt like an escape.

Castiel appreciated that.

After a long time, long enough that Castiel’s out-of-shape body began panting and sweating in a way that was entirely not sexy, he began to recognize the neighborhood around the high school that he saw through the car window when Balthazar drove in the morning, and he slowed down, glancing around but still not really knowing what direction he had come from or how he had even gotten there at all. Kansas University hovered in the distance, so close that Castiel could practically hear students throwing around Frisbees and playing football on any spare patch of grass available. Castiel slowed at an intersection on the edge of campus, glancing up helplessly to look at the street signs, but nothing sounded familiar. He was completely resigned to just keep running until his legs collapsed and he had to be taken to a hospital, or until he found home—whichever came first—when he suddenly heard a breathless call of, “Cas!”

There was only one person that could be, really. Castiel glanced around curiously, hoping with a sudden skip in his heart that he didn’t look as gross as he probably did, and then dismissing it promptly, because why should he be worried about what he looked like when he and Dean Winchester were just friends?

Castiel was half hoping that hearing Dean’s voice was a hallucination brought on by dehydration, anyway.

Sadly, or fortunately, the gods were not on his side today, and he caught sight of a grinning Dean jogging toward him from what appeared to be an auto garage stationed next to a two-story home on a large patch of land, wearing a gray t-shirt with grease stains on it, and Castiel had to force himself not to stare in some creepy fascination.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted calmly as Dean reached him, still smiling, and he managed to smile back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I live and work here, dude,” Dean enlightened him, laughter evident in his voice. “Don’t you live on the other side of 58?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered honestly, and Dean let out a startled huff of laughter. Castiel wondered when he had become a comedic genius, or if heat exhaustion had just gotten to the both of them. Probably the latter. “You live here?”

“Sure do,” Dean told him, suddenly looking embarrassed, and he chanced a glance over his shoulder back at the house, like maybe looking at it would turn it into a mansion. Castiel immediately melted. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“Well, I like it.”

Dean shot him a shy smile, and then cleared his throat. “So, what brings you to this part of town?” Dean asked, and then answered his own question with a question: “Running?”

“Yeah,” Castiel replied, glancing down as if surprised to find he had been running at all, even if it had been the only reason for him leaving his house today. He cleared his throat self-consciously and added, “I used to run a lot, in Illinois, before everything. I figured it might help me learn my way around town.”

“Did it?”

“No,” Castiel replied miserably. “I think I’m lost.”

Dean didn’t just laugh with sound and a smile—he laughed with his whole body. Dean’s laughter started at the tips of his toes and echoed all the way to the top of his head. He threw his head back, his spine curving, and he laughed up to the sky, the sound echoing back from the trees, getting lost in the universe. Castiel felt himself smiling in response before the impulse even occurred to him, lighting up automatically at the sound of Dean’s happiness.

Dean was a contagious person. His smile infected everyone who could see it. His laughter put people under his spell, leaving them at his mercy, whether Dean knew it or not.

No matter the amount of awareness, he had caught Castiel like a fish—hook, line, and sinker. And Castiel couldn’t be more honored to share a friendship with a young man as lovely as Dean Winchester proved day and day again to be.

Dean wasn’t the first or the only person to accept Castiel, despite knowing his past, and he wouldn’t be the last. But, somehow, he had become one of the only ones that mattered, and Castiel would never truly be able to fathom how easily he had let his heart get ahead of his brain.

And yet, when he was standing in front of Dean like he was now, he could completely understand.

“You okay out here running in this heat?” Dean asked suddenly, his eyebrows pulling together in concern. “Want a water bottle or something?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel assured him, shaking his head. “I’m probably just going to jog around campus and head back home. It’s off of Harper Street?” he added when he noticed Dean open his mouth to ask.

Dean closed his mouth, blinked in astonishment, and then offered Castiel a toothy grin. “You a psychic, Cas?” And then he seemed to realize what Castiel had said, because his face fell into an expression akin to horror. “Wait, you live off of Harper? That’s quite a ways away; Garth lives there, too. You sure you’ll be alright to get there?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Castiel shrugged. “I was intending for this run to also be a bit of an exercise in learning my way around town, after all.”

“Damn,” Dean said. “Well, you’re definitely covering some ground.”

Castiel nodded and, when it seemed like Dean didn’t have anything more to say, offered, “I should probably let you get back to work.”

Dean grimaced, glancing over his shoulder to look toward the garage, where Castiel could see a few cars up on platforms and men and one woman meandering around and working on them. Dean turned back to Castiel, shoving his hands in his pocket as if his change in posture would be enough to turn him invisible, and he grinned. “I think they can handle it without me,” Dean replied in a teasing bragging tone, and Castiel rolled his eyes so dramatically he might have sprained a sarcasm muscle.

“Still,” Castiel responded, feeling shy. “I shouldn’t keep you. It was nice seeing you, though, and I’ll see you in school on Monday.”

“Sure thing, Cas,” Dean said, smiling, and turned to wander back to the garage, rubbing his palms on his shorts. Castiel watched him for a moment, almost fondly, before he turned on his heel and continued his jog in the direction of campus, sure he would find better paths there, and he hopefully wouldn’t end up in the next town over.

And, despite the heat, and despite how he ended up getting lost and it took him until nightfall to get back to the house, stumbling up onto the porch breathing hard and sunburnt and windswept, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling the entire time.

He liked to think that counted for something.

~*~

“Attention!” Charlie called from her spot at the table next to Castiel, attempting to speak over the multiple conversations, but there was no being heard over Garth’s puppy dog eyes of adoration as he stared at Anna as she told him a funny story from her first period class, so she had to call again, “All eyes on me, bitches! I have a declaration!”

“All stops for the queen,” Dean remarked dryly, rolling his eyes, and Ash smirked.

“Funny, handmaiden,” Charlie replied offhandedly, barely even seeming to put any thought into it, and that just seemed to add to Dean’s amusement. “Anyway, losers, it’s that time of year again—shenanigans must ensue every Friday night at seven on the dot.”

“We have a movie night, usually,” Garth explained happily to Anna when she looked confused, and Castiel listened in anything but subtly, and Charlie even granted them the permission to have this explanation. “Sometimes, if there’s something happening on campus or a fair or something, we’ll go to that. Depends on the Friday. It’s a lot of fun.”

Charlie nodded in agreement and added, “We also bring snacks. And we don’t usually stay up too late, because a select secret few of us LARP on Saturday morning, and beauty sleep is key for a queen.”

Jo rolled her perfectly black-rimmed eyes before responding, “We usually go to a geeky movie and then hang out in Charlie’s basement.”

“Full-on _That 70s Show_ style,” Charlie agreed excitedly, bobbing a nod so vigorously that the bench she and Castiel were sitting on shook. “So, how about it, new dude and dudette? You two in for some fun? You are both formally invited on all friend group activities from this date forward.”

Anna and Castiel looked at each other, both of them so surprised it probably seemed like a ridiculous reaction to the outsiders, but—Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he had actually been invited by friends out to do something casual. He certainly couldn’t remember the last time he had even been in a position to accept.

This time last year, Castiel would have had to smile the same stony smile that came to his face naturally in the shadow of the pulsing bruises on his skin, hidden under fabric, and he would have had to say, _I can’t go on Fridays; I have to help at the church_. Castiel and his siblings hadn’t helped at the church more than the average volunteer, but they were all stuffed into the basement on benches with desks and sat silently and carefully as their father taught them about religions both real and his own throughout the entirety of the weekend, as if the teachings were his own fulltime job.

Castiel had seen Anna have to turn down dates and turn down invitations from friends in the name of their father’s religion, so he couldn’t help but to pause his own answer to watch her face light up in excitement.

“Definitely!” she chirped, beaming, and Garth seemed to vibrate with energy across the table, smiling just as brightly. “It sounds like a ton of fun!”

“Excellent,” Charlie purred, and then turned to Castiel with raised eyebrows. “And you, my fearless knight?”

“I can’t,” Castiel told her, smiling sadly. “It sounds fun, and thank you for inviting me, but I’m needed at home for babysitting duty.”

Anna opened her mouth, as if to inform Castiel that they didn’t need to use the same excuses anymore, before her expression dropped and the enthusiasm drained out of her eyes as she looked over at him with a frown. “No, Cassie,” she groaned, making a face. “Can’t Michael or Gabriel or someone just come home early?”

“You know full well why Michael can’t,” Castiel replied, sending her a pointed look, and she pressed her lips together unhappily. “Gabriel, meanwhile, has class. Balthazar works in the university library until closing. If Michael won’t allow me to get a fiscally responsible form of employment, I have to at least pull my weight where and when I can, Anna. You know that.”

She looked devastated, in a way that Castiel hadn’t seen in a while. “I don’t want to go if you can’t,” she said resolutely, and Castiel’s chest warmed and tightened in a terrible and lovely way, because he knew Anna cared enough about him that she didn’t want to see him unhappy, and she was willing to give up her own happiness in order to make him feel less alone.

She had always felt, in the last several years, that she owed him some kind of martyrdom, but he was her protector for a reason, and he wasn’t about to let her steer herself into that.

“Enough with that,” Castiel brushed her off, turning to Charlie with a thankful smile. Charlie looked between the siblings in confusion, but Castiel knew that he could always keep his emotions controlled through so many years of necessitating to, and Anna’s emotions always ran so rampant that they were nearly impossible to decode without lifetime exposure. “Thanks for inviting me, but duty calls.”

Charlie looked a little disheartened, but she was still smiling. Castiel seemed to be the only one that noticed the unhappy frown on Dean’s face, and Castiel was willing to pretend as though he hadn’t.

“I’ll talk to Michael,” Anna said resolutely, and then shot Castiel a sharp glare when he turned to tell her to let the matter drop. “I’m getting sick of this same old song and dance, Castiel. No more of this self-sacrificial bullshit, alright? I had enough of this with Dad, but—”

“We’ll talk later, _Anael_ ,” Castiel snapped through his teeth, not kindly. Anna’s face immediately went red with the name, and they met each other stubborn on stubborn, neither of them willing to give an inch to let the other take a mile, their eyes deadly determined and their expressions stonily silent.

There was a moment of silence, aggravated tension from the Novak siblings and awkward nervousness from their group of friends, but it thankfully shattered the moment Ash let out a whistle and said, “This family feud is really getting to my tai chi, amigos.”

“Do you even know what tai chi is?” Jo demanded, making a face. “I think you mean feng shui.”

“I think he’s talking out of his ass,” Dean offered to the conversation, frowning over at Ash. “Did you have anything to smoke this morning, Doctor Badass?”

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Ash tutted, shaking his head in disappointment. “You know my extravagance is nothing other than the intelligent nature of my technologically-savvy brain, and not from the use of drugs or other rotten paraphernalia. Besides, I quit that shit last summer, when Mama Ellen caught me with it and punched my lights out.”

“Model citizen of the year Ash Harvelle,” Charlie mumbled into her chocolate milk, rolling her eyes.

“How about this?” Anna suddenly demanded, her eyes still narrowed and her face still stony, but there was something mischievous glittering in her eyes. “Rock, paper, scissors. I’ll play you for who gets to go to the hangout, and who gets babysitting duty. And then we’ll work on an actual schedule with Michael as mediator later.”

Castiel didn’t trust Anna as far as he could throw her, but he could feel all of their friends staring a hole in his back, and he didn’t know how to explain it if he told her another no, so he just managed to grate through his teeth, “Fine.”

“Fine,” she responded briskly, and then held out her fist. Castiel mirrored her movement, his mind already three steps ahead into a checkmate for their little game. “Rock, paper, scissors—shoot.”

Castiel closed his outstretched hand around hers before she could make her move, and he met her eyes when he announced, “We’ll both go this week.”

“Lovely,” Anna replied, but there was something pleased in her eyes that said she had wanted it to end up this way. And of course it had—Castiel knew she never would have rested in acting like a petulant terror until he agreed to go, so he decided to present a compromise that would keep her happy. Now his only problem would be convincing Michael to either come home early, or to allow Hael to look after the other younger children.

Castiel was sure this would end up meaning nothing more than an early Armageddon, but it was too late to turn back now, so he just simply turned to face forward, and elected to pretend that nothing had even happened.

He met Dean’s eyes across the table, his gaze curious, but Dean immediately dropped the expression when he saw Castiel looking. Instead, he just hooked his eyebrows up expectantly, and Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes in silent response, astoundingly pleased when Dean nodded solemnly, ending their silent conversation that they had both been able to understand easily.

Castiel was setting high hopes, but he figured—why not? What did he have to lose, he who had already lost so much?

Wasn’t it about time luck came around his way?

Castiel’s eyes lingered on Dean for another moment before he looked away. And if he caught Charlie seeing the way he stared for too long, and if he saw the evil smirk that curled onto her lips, he was none the wiser but to ignore it, and to pretend that he hadn’t the faintest idea.

~*~

“Dude,” Dean greeted him through a grin on their way to their history class after lunch, his eyes sparkling with silenced laughter. “You were totally cockblocking to the max back there.”

Castiel looked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Garth and Anna,” Dean clarified, his grin widening. “Garth looked like someone had killed his puppy when Anna said she wasn’t going to go if you weren’t. It was like watching the bombing of Hiroshima.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows.

“Hey, I might be shit with dates, but I still know historical stuff,” Dean remarked, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, you’re trying to change the subject, and I’m not that easy.”

“Anna has cockblocked guys interested in me for many years,” Castiel informed Dean dryly as they crossed into the classroom, settling into their usual seats. “Maybe it’s about time I returned the favor.”

Castiel wasn’t sure what he had said, but there was suddenly a new spark in Dean’s eyes that wasn’t there before when he looked at him, and Castiel couldn’t help but to think he quite liked the looks of it.

“I heard Garth offer your sister a ride, and she took it,” Dean enlightened him unexpectedly about a minute before class was to start, leaning forward at his desk with a wicked grin. “I doubt that you’d want to be in the car with Garth being all puppy-eyes to your sister, so how about I pick you up instead?”

If Castiel were willing to admit it, he would have said that Dean Winchester was flirting with him. But, instead, Castiel lived on the bank of de Nile, so, instead, he just flashed Dean a hurried smile as the bell rang and offered up a lame thanks instead of anything that would have promised something better, but it still seemed encouragement enough for Dean, who winked at him as the teacher stepped up to call the class’s attention.

It took every muscle in Castiel’s body to keep from smiling dumbly throughout the entirety of the lesson.

Dean Winchester seemed to have that effect on him.

Castiel didn’t mind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	5. A Hell of Heaven

“You’re going _where_?” Michael demanded incredulously on Friday night, blinking at Anna’s sundress, and narrowing his eyes at Castiel’s tan slacks and navy-blue button-up. “You told me this was a _friend_ ordeal,” he accused in disappointment to Castiel, frowning. Castiel suddenly looked down at himself, feeling mortified.

“Do I look like I’m going on a date?” he demanded, looking to Anna, who hid her grin behind her hand ineffectively. “Anna.”

“Oh, hush,” she told him, laughing. “You look fine. You always dress up all nice, so maybe no one will notice that you’re trying to look extra pretty for Dean Winchester.”

Castiel was stricken, but Michael just waved his hands, looking panicked. “Who is Dean Winchester?” Michael demanded helplessly, looking between them. “Are you both going on dates?”

“I—” Castiel began, mortified and mollified, but he didn’t get the chance to answer as a doorbell chimed, and Anna was dashing off gracefully to answer it, leaving Castiel standing in the kitchen opening and closing his mouth like a standard house fish in front of Michael, whose eyes were very startled and confused, and his younger siblings, who were all huddled together and smirking evilly. Even Samandriel. The little traitor.

“Cassie!” Anna called, and Castiel could practically hear her smirk in her voice. “It’s for you! Run before Michael stops you!”

“Got to go,” Castiel muttered quickly before tearing from the room, slowing down to a casual walk by the time he hit where he could be seen from the front door. Dean was leaning in the doorway, smiling with ease and wearing his typical attire of jeans torn at the knee and a plaid shirt open to a solid color underneath. His color scheme today was green, to match his eyes.

It was only a slight assurance to Castiel that at least neither of them seemed to be subtle.

“Are you both going to the same place, and taking two different cars?” Michael called from somewhere behind him, sounding disapproving. “That is entirely illogical.”

Dean’s smirk grew at Michael’s comments, barely bothering to hide his amusement. Castiel, meanwhile, didn’t even stop to greet him, or to say goodbye to his eldest sibling—he just grabbed Dean’s arm and began to yank him down the porch steps, causing Dean to burst out laughing, echoing Anna’s hysterical giggles from the doorway.

“What an interesting family you have,” Dean commented in amusement once they were out of hearing range, on the driveway and walking to the curb, where a sleek black old car was parked that Castiel had assumed to be Dean’s, with how much he talked about the beauty of his automobile. Castiel shot him a dry look, and Dean laughed even louder.

“Michael is not used to being out of the loop,” Castiel enlightened Dean once they were safely closed in the metal of the Chevy, the leather worn and comfortable against Castiel’s back. “I think he is having a bit of a crisis. My siblings and I were never allowed to have much of a social life, under the rule of my father.”

Realizing he had said too much, Castiel pressed his lips together and looked pointedly at the dashboard, staring so hard he could have burned a whole in the material straight to the engine. Dean didn’t respond, only turned the car on and fiddled with the radio, stopping at a rock station.

“I hope you enjoy the sound of the true-blooded rock,” Dean told him, shooting a grin in his direction as he pulled away from the curb onto the street, both of them blatantly ignoring the crowd of five of Castiel’s siblings in the front doorway watching them go, “because that is the only music you will ever hear played in this car.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to smile. “I’m currently unfamiliar with most genres of music.”

“Oh, man,” Dean said, smirking, “you definitely shouldn’t have said that.”

And, with that segue, Dean spent the rest of the ride to the movie theatre telling Castiel all he knew about the songs and the artists of whatever was playing, bestowing his knowledge on ears that didn’t quite know what to do with the information, but Castiel was entirely thankful all the same—thankful for Dean showing him mercy, thankful that Dean hadn’t mentioned Castiel’s slip about his father, a topic that Castiel didn’t even like broaching with a twenty-foot pole.

Castiel just relaxed in the passenger seat and smiled at Dean’s enthusiasm, entirely grateful that he would at least be able to have this night of fun and peace with presence of company that he enjoyed, even if it meant he would have to listen to ten more minutes on the way back to his home on AC/DC fun facts.

It was nice to at least know that he would have the option. And he would choose this—every single time.

~*~

“Bottoms up, bitches,” Charlie cheered, and then drank.

Castiel wasn’t the only one coughing up whatever the hell Charlie had served them in little paper cups Castiel was sure was normally used for holding water to rinse out toothpaste, a horrible concoction of something both grape and orange.

Charlie frowned down at her disastrous juice combination. “The Internet said it would be much more fab than this.”

“I’m going to send you links to better sites,” Ash told her in a monotone, before reaching up and using his fingers to attempt to scrape the taste off of his tongue.

“Admittedly, this isn’t what I thought you all meant when you chose the word ‘shenanigans’,” Castiel leaned over and admitted to Dean lowly, their shoulders brushing. They were seated on the same plush couch next to Ash, and they were already sitting rather close, enough to let Castiel hope. Leaning even closer to talk like he was practically threw the option of plausible deniability out the window at this point, but Castiel couldn’t have bothered with it. A slow grin spread over Dean’s face, and he took another casual sip of whatever Charlie had given them, considering the taste before swallowing simply.

“We’re quite the wild bunch,” Dean told him, purposefully widening his eyes. “Marvel movies and punch that tastes like a tropical paradise vomited into a cup.”

“That’s the spirit, Winchester!” Charlie cheered happily, holding up a pitcher of the wretched liquid. “Okay, friends—since we have two newbies in our midst, and we don’t want to scare them too badly, I say we top off this wonderful night of Thor 2 with a game of Never Have I Ever!”

Dean sighed from beside Castiel, but Castiel just stiffened up in his seat.

“I’ve never played that game,” Castiel whispered softly, horrified, as Jo protested and Ash tried to get her to shut up by pulling at her hair. “What are the rules and the regulation? What is the protocol?”

Dean’s lips twitched up into a fond smile, and he leaned even closer still to offer a response, which was almost enough for Castiel to lose his train of thought, but he managed.

“Relax, Cas,” Dean urged him quietly, and Castiel took a deep breath. “Alright, so basically what’s gonna happen is this—someone, say Charlie, is going to say ‘never have I ever’, and an action. And then, anyone who has done the action, has to drink. Got it?”

“Is this game supposed to be embarrassing?”

“Sometimes,” Dean admitted, shrugging. “Other times it’s funny.”

Castiel gulped audibly.

“You’ll be fine,” Dean assured him, reaching out and patting at Castiel’s back, his hand lingering for a moment too long to be platonic, and Castiel’s heart took off somewhere into the atmosphere in nervousness.

Castiel didn’t know nearly enough cues for this much social interaction.

Anna, however, could have been in this friend group since birth. There was no one in the group that didn’t act like lifelong friends with her, her smile and laugh lighting up the room as Garth hung on every word, looking at her like she hung the sun and the moon. Sometimes, he would watch her catch his eye, and she would smile shyly, and Castiel would have to sink back and wonder if maybe he should have a talk with his little sister about boys and their intentions.

Dean leaned closer to him, and Castiel wondered if maybe he should also get a lecture on the very same topic.

 _Be unremarkable_ , _Castiel,_ his father had murmured to him fervently, nodding to the people crowding into the church where he preached his sermons, speaking through his welcoming smile. _Either be someone they won’t remember, or someone they revere_.

Castiel was so used to blending into the background in order to survive that he didn’t know what to do now that he was balancing in the spotlight with Anna, who had always, whether on their father’s instruction or on nothing more than instinct, had always been the one their peers revered.

“Fill your cups,” Charlie ordered in a sing-song voice, grinning deviously. “I’ll go first!”

She waited with raised eyebrows until everyone had refilled their cups and had settled back into their seats, all of them crowded in a makeshift circle in her basement. Charlie paused until she was pleased that everyone was ready to go, and she beamed.

“Never have I ever,” she drew out, and Castiel was pretty sure he had broken into a nervous sweat, “waxed a part of my body.”

Dean sighed in disappointment as Charlie, Jo, and Anna all immediately knocked back the terrible concoction. And then, after a moment, so did Garth.

“My sister is so mean,” Garth groaned as the girls burst into giggles, his cheeks turning red but his smile still encouraged and kind.

Castiel figured, if the game would continue at this rate, he might be able to survive with minor embarrassment.

Jo, on Charlie’s right side, took the reigns. “Never have I ever . . . snuck out of my parent’s house.”

And so it went on, once around the circle, where his new friends would giggle some slightly ridiculous, seemingly rebellious task and Castiel and Anna would not drink, having been to ensnared in fear of their father to ever be tempted with something was pointless as sneaking out of the house or having a secret romantic partner.

Of course, eventually, the mood shifted.

“Never have I ever done something stupid for a dare,” Charlie said. Castiel did not drink.

“Never have I ever crashed a car,” Jo said. Castiel did not drink.

“Never have I ever won at poker,” Garth said. Castiel had never even played poker before.

“Never have I ever ran away from home,” Anna said, and she and Castiel drank.

“Never have I ever studied a religion I hated,” Castiel said, and he and Anna drank.

And, of course, it was Dean who took the initiative.

“Never have I ever kissed a guy,” Dean said, and he held Castiel’s eyes as he drank.

Anna shrieked in amusement as Jo drank, biting back a grin, and Castiel had to swallow back his embarrassment before he took a hurried sip of his own glass, causing a round of applause. Castiel stared around at them, horrified, but Dean’s laughter was like sunshine, warming him up from the inside out, and Castiel couldn’t be embarrassed if it made Dean smile like that.

“Never have I ever,” Ash began thoughtfully, and the next several hours went very much so like that.

~*~

Castiel laid in the grass instead of joining the others from where they were sprinting around the large square of Charlie’s backyard, dancing in the darkening night with leftover sparklers from the Fourth of July in their hands, drawing shapes and letters and squiggles in the air. Anna’s laughter echoed up to the heavens, lifting Castiel into a peace he hadn’t known since before Gabriel ran away from home to go to school in Boston.

Castiel had always tried to take care of his siblings, but he was only one person, and he couldn’t do everything, not for all of them. And this, being able to sit back and know Anna is having a great time starting over and making friends, was enough to ease his worries of her not being able to fit in elsewhere.

Castiel was always standing in front of his siblings, taking the blunt of the world for them, so that they would be able to settle into their lives carefully, but unharmed. Hearing Anna slide so peacefully into a world she had always yearned to be apart of—a world of friends and laughter and easy nights of fun and games—made a lot of things seem bearable in comparison.

He looked up at the stars, the occasional burst of light passing in his peripheral vision. Kansas, even if it was more rural, still made it hard to look up and see the stars in this kind of populated area. There might not have been skyscrapers, but the pinpricks of light were far off and dim, and Castiel felt the first pang for Illinois that he had felt since they had gotten here.

Before he even had the time to let the weight of that realization sink in, someone was lowering themself down onto the grass beside him and, for some reason, Castiel hadn’t needed to glance over to know who.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, Cas?” Dean asked as he settled down onto his back, craning his neck to the side to be able to look at Castiel. “You looked pretty pondering from over yonder, figured I’d check up on you and make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.”

Castiel smiled, and then shrugged. “I’m not thinking about much of anything,” Castiel lied, the words heavy on his tongue, and Dean must have noticed—his eyebrows went up skeptically. “I’m thinking of Pontiac,” he confessed before Dean could ask, practically falling over his words in his rush to get them out. Dean’s expression remained constant, nothing but casual niceness, and Castiel didn’t know if he was regretful or thankful.

“Gotcha,” Dean said, and then turned his head to look upwards. “Can’t really see the stars from here, though. It’s just kind of void-like, you know? Sammy and I, we used to spend weekends camping on no-man’s-land outside of the city, and the kid couldn’t get enough of the stars. Used to tell me all about constellations and their stories. I never really thought it would be impossible to miss them, you know? The stars, I mean.”

“I know,” Castiel said, almost surprised at the feeling of nostalgia that Castiel couldn’t put into words. “When it was a good day, or when I couldn’t sleep, I used to climb out of my bedroom window, where the roof sloped, and I would just lay there for hours. It was always peaceful. I think I’m just more surprised that I miss anything about Illinois, to be honest.”

He and Dean laid in a peaceful, calm silence for many moments before Dean whispered, “I’m sorry, if I embarrassed you earlier. I don’t really think before I speak, and you looked really uncomfortable and I didn’t know how to—”

“You didn’t embarrass me,” Castiel assured him, smiling a little dryly, but also a lot kindly. “I’m not nearly as akin to social interaction as my sister is, or even as you are. Sometimes things just catch me off guard.”

“Still,” Dean murmured, sounding a little embarrassed but maybe even a little humbled, his head still inclined to look up into the stars, constellations swirling on the freckles of his nose and cheekbones, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I did.”

“It’s worth more than you think it is,” Castiel allowed gratefully, turning his head in his direction.

It was Dean’s turn to look a little embarrassed, but both of them were saved from making further conversation by Jo appearing in their eye-line, grinning evilly, as she told them, “Charlie dared Ash to jump off of the roof and into a tree. Wanna come watch?”

Dean let out a sigh like the immaturity of his friends would only cause to disappoint him time and time again before he heaved himself onto his feet, pausing to offer Castiel a hand up. Castiel felt his face burn but he accepted the assistance, letting Dean haul him onto his feet—perhaps a little too roughly, because Castiel stumbled into him. Dean reached up and automatically steadied him, chest-to-chest, their faces closer than they had ever been, and Castiel paused in wonder and how Dean could possibly be even more breathtaking even inches away.

And then Castiel remembered himself, and he jerked backwards out of Dean’s grip, his face burning as he fumbled over an apology, and Dean shot him an easy, almost victorious smile. Jo, who was still standing there and had been watching the entire exchange, looked like she was torn between laughing and feeling nauseous.

“We good?” Jo demanded, a smirk growing on her face that Castiel wasn’t entirely sure he liked. Dean gestured for her to lead the way, lending a wink to Castiel and, as one, they migrated to where Ash was attempting to clamber up to the roof of Charlie’s house, none of them having much more to say on the matter.

~*~

It took six teenagers, thirty-three minutes, and one ladder, but eventually they got Ash down from the tree.

~*~

“I hope you know this is just as embarrassing for me as it is for you,” Gabriel told them gleefully once they were all in the car, the houses dark as they passed them by.

“I can’t believe you came to pick us up,” Anna grated out miserably, her expression still frozen in the same look of horror that had settled there the moment she and Castiel had spotted a grinning Gabriel on the porch of Charlie’s home, shaking with laughter. “We had rides home, you know.”

“I saw,” Gabriel agreed. “Castiel’s was stunning. Yours, Anna—well.”

“Garth and I are just friends,” Anna responded to Gabriel simply, sounding as if she had practiced the measured response. Gabriel seemed to think so, too, because his smirk could probably be seen from outer space. “Castiel, however, is probably in the most adorable courtship the world has ever seen.”

“No one said anything about a courtship,” Castiel replied, rolling his eyes. “Dean flirts with everyone.”

“Which should also entail that Dean is interested in not just one flavor of romance, and therefore your chances are looking mighty good still, big brother,” Anna teased, and Castiel knew the routine was only to get him to open up, only to embarrass him and give him something to smile about, and Castiel couldn’t help but to fold to her wishes and duck his head to hide his pleased smile.

“We shall see,” he remarked gravely when he emerged, his facial expressions and tone of voice controlled, but he couldn’t help but to feel the hope swirling warm and promising in his chest.

“Awww,” Gabriel and Anna both responded despicably.

Castiel snorted and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, and they spent the rest of the ride in an amiable silence.

~*~

Castiel wasn’t much of a firm believer in karma, but he was beginning to recognize a pattern forming in his life—the good was always promptly followed by an extreme bad. Whether it was just lofted moods that made the worse events seem more terrible than they were, Castiel could not say for certainty, but the fact remained that, it seemed, for every step forward Castiel made in his recovery from his father’s absolute hold, he took three large steps backward.

It didn’t take long.

Castiel was determined to make his runs weekly, and to spend the majority of his Saturdays out exercising the way he used to be able to. He was convinced he could find a better way to fill up his free days than ruminating in the unattractive topics of his mind, hoping to find an activity he could do that didn’t fill his father’s taunting voice in his head, and running was enjoyable enough and safe enough that both Castiel and Michael approved of the idea, and so Castiel set on his second day of running around the town of Lawrence filled with optimism.

He wondered if he would be able to accidentally run into Dean again and, before he had really realized what he was doing, he was pointing himself in the general direction of Dean’s home, figuring, worst case, he would easier be able to find the University, and the campus provided a scenic route and shading trees that certainly weren’t a bad idea to run under.

He set off, his mind blissfully blank, entirely at ease.

He, of all people, should have known better.

He didn’t make it to Dean’s house, or even into the general area; Castiel had to have only been gone for less than an hour when he felt rough hands on his arms, and a brute force was tugging him into a concrete jungle of an alleyway, sending him stumbling and falling, hitting the ground and feeling the skin of his knees and palms split. Castiel looked up, started, a flash of fear curling into his thought process, fight or flight kicking in.

Staring down at him, looking sadistically gleeful, was the blond Smurf, Zachariah.

“Castiel,” Zachariah grated out obnoxiously, like he hadn’t just physically thrown him into this confrontation. “Fancy seeing you around this part of town. Are you on the hunt or something?”

Castiel, feeling entirely confused, just slowly pushed himself up to his feet, his back to a wall, and replied, “Excuse me?”

Zachariah rolled his eyes and took a slight step forward, boxing Castiel into his spot, trapping him like a wild animal. Castiel could almost feel his father’s agitation, could almost hear him growling, _You let him get to you, Castiel. You got yourself into this mess. Now get out of it._

Castiel, however hopeless at socializing as he tended to be, was at least a decent strategist when he needed to be. He was quick at weighing his options, considering his odds. And he took one look at the situation he had stumbled into, all because he hadn’t been paying enough attention—not just on where he was running, or the people around him he passed by as he jogged, but in general, at school, when he should have realized that Zachariah was lying in wait, looking for his perfect opening to strike.

He must have seen Castiel running last week, and figured he may follow the same route again the next week. He must have waited for hours, all to get the chance to shove Castiel into this alleyway, and Castiel knew in the fiber of his being that this would mean nothing good for him.

As he considered his options, two of Zachariah’s typical goons appeared out of the corner of Castiel’s eyes, and Castiel knew he was well and truly trapped.

 _Then get out of it_ , his father’s voice growled impatiently. _Didn’t I teach you anything? You know what to do._

Castiel did. And that was why he was still standing there, his back to stone, entirely vulnerable—because he didn’t want to sink into the same violence that his father had covered himself in like a protective blanket. Castiel didn’t know how far he would fall, if he found himself tempted by the dark urges for violence and hellfire that his father had been attempting to drill into him for years.

Castiel was Emmanuel Novak’s favorite pet project, his blank canvas. The picture he had tried to paint into Castiel, though, was nothing more than a reflection of his own internal monster, and Castiel was paralyzed at the thought of even his father’s intentions showing through him.

Emmanuel had wanted Castiel to be just like him—merciless, manipulative, and cunning. He wanted to break Castiel down and then build him back up into his own brainless, murdering sidekick.

And now, because he forgot his father’s teachings for just a few hours, he was standing in the middle of a hostile situation, and there weren’t too many options on how to get out of it.

Castiel, though, was trained in this kind of hostile. His head was entirely level and, despite the sparks of panic that flickered through his bloodstream, he didn’t let it show, just blinking around at his aggressors like only a guy clueless that he was about to be mugged would.

“Is this necessary?” Castiel asked them carefully, glancing at the other two in turn, recognizing individuals his age that Dean had pointed out being named Raphael and Uriel. Castiel wondered if people with godly names were planning on dedicating their lives to making his a living hell, or if it was just one terrible coincidence. Castiel turned back to Zachariah, raising his eyebrows. “We could have settled this in another manner.”

“No,” Zachariah pondered, “I don’t think we could have.”

Castiel resisted the urge to sigh dramatically as his father’s voice hissed, louder, _Stay in control_.

“You know, we were just talking about you the other day,” Zachariah began, and Castiel promptly interrupted with a snort.

“Your obsession with me is flattering, Zach, but unwarranted,” Castiel responded to the young man, his voice dripping with vitriolic resentment. “I’ve never been a big fan of blonds, and I don’t tend to take toward bad boys, anyway.”

“You’re the scum of the earth, you know that, Novak?” Zachariah demanded, his face turning to stone, choosing to skip the pleasantries. “You and your entire family. Your sisters are sluts, hamming up and putting out to the first guy to show them attention—the redhead with that goofy-looking Garth kid, and then your pretty little sister with the younger Winchester brother. Your brother, the lawyer—is he fighting for your daddy? Is he trying to get him free?”

The temperature was rising under Castiel’s skin, but he was refusing to answer, refusing to give Zachariah the reaction or the ammunition that he wanted. Castiel knew what bullies were like. His father had been the extreme of them.

Castiel held his rage inside of him tightly, even when Zachariah leaned even closer, and whispered, “Did daddy teach you any tricks before he tucked you in at night, Novak?”

“Go to hell,” Castiel growled, shoving Zachariah backwards as hard as he could, but he didn’t move fast enough. In the instant where he was planning to run for the exit of the alleyway, entirely sure he would have been able to at least outrun them, the henchmen stepped in and blocked him, throwing him back against the wall so hard that, when Castiel’s head connected with it, he saw stars.

“Maybe we should teach the freak a lesson about keeping his hands to himself, boys,” Zachariah purred, as pleased as a cat who caught a canary, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s see what we can do to get him and his freak family out of our town.”

And then Zachariah sent a mean right hook into Castiel’s face, sending him slamming back into the concrete wall, the dizzying blow causing him to lose his balance, and Castiel lost counts of how many hits he took before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited and late! D: I'll edit it later on tonight! Sorry about that!
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	6. In Wandering Mazes Lost

Castiel knew the moment his eyes painfully cracked open and he was looking around at a sunset sky that he was in so much trouble.

Everything hurt. And Castiel, practically a connoisseur in pain, was instantly disarmed by the stiffness of his joints, the numbness of his skin as the stagnant cool air rolled over it. Castiel groaned as he pushed himself up, wincing at the tender scraps on his palms against the concrete, and forced his back to sit up as he leaned against the wall, not even bothering with standing, one of his hips aching so badly that he wanted to scream at the thought of having to make it back to his home on foot.

One of his eyes, his left, was almost completely swollen shut, and his face felt practically twice the size at that cheekbone. Castiel raised cautious fingers to press experimentally at the skin, and hissed at the shot of pain.

Zachariah had a mightier right hook than he had looked like he would.

Castiel felt a bruise on his chest, just shy of his collarbone, and he bypassed it, letting his fingers press worriedly against his ribs and, despite shots of pain, Castiel was relieved that none of them appeared to be broken. He had a headache the size of a large Asian nation, and he had a sick feeling in his stomach just at the thought of what Michael’s face might look like when he walked through the door, having disappeared all afternoon and evening, beaten bloody and shaking with the strain of holding himself up.

Castiel took a deep breath, and even that hurt.

He had news—if he ever did snap and turn into the monster his father taught him to be, Zachariah’s name was holding tried and true at the very top of the hit list, and that was a fact.

Castiel experimentally rolled his shoulders and, despite some stiffness, his bruised skin seemed contained enough that he would be able to move if he took it carefully, so he braced himself against the thrumming, sickening ache in his hip and pushed himself onto his feet, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out as he placed his weight on the injury, not even knowing if he would be able to make it home on it, and hoping that he either proved himself wrong or that he was due for a minor miracle.

Zachariah and his angelically-named company had graciously dragged Castiel’s unconscious body to the back of the alleyway, tucked up behind a sea of garbage cans, and the smell stuck to his clothes even as Castiel managed to make his way in the direction of his home against the breeze, grimacing at the residual lingering smell, an effect that Zachariah probably hadn’t been bright enough to consider purposefully but definitely leaving its mark nonetheless on Castiel’s pride.

As if getting the shit kicked out of him by a couple of high school bullies wasn’t humiliating enough, they had to leave him with the trash, and make sure that he woke up feeling just as worthless.

Castiel gritted his teeth, and ignored the blood on his shirt and stained on his skin, and pressed forward, hoping that no one would see him and call the cops.

The last thing his family needed was for his face to be splashed across the news with the headline, _Morning Star Murderer Son Arrested Covered in Blood_.

It would definitely sell papers, but it wouldn’t do wonders for his mental recovery.

Castiel busied himself with thoughts like that as he walked, trying to keep himself from thinking about the pain, and old trick of his that had the tendency to work. He spent long minutes compartmentalizing everything in his head, shutting his emotions and thoughts away for a later date, not allowed himself even a wince. He kept himself moving, not wanting to know what would happen if he just slumped over and waited for a paranoid civilian to call the police on him. He had to get home. He had to make it back, because there was only so much he could take, and he wouldn’t be able to handle being labeled as his father’s son.

Night had rolled in rather darkly by the time Castiel turned up his street, his hip screaming and Castiel closed up inside of himself, hopeless. His head was throbbing, and his face hurt. He wanted nothing more than some water, a pain pill, and to get a good night’s sleep but, the moment he saw the all the lights were on at his house, and two of the cars were missing despite everyone usually being home by this time of night, Castiel had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be that lucky.

Castiel prepared himself as he made his way up the drive, and then up the porch steps. He paused, and then he shouldered the unlocked front door open, his head hanging.

Almost immediately, he heard a scuffle of sound, and he had barely managed to close the door behind him, his back facing the rest of the house, when Michael’s voice called, “Castiel! Jesus, Castiel, where have you been? You’ve been missing for hours! Balth and Gabe and Anna and Hael are out there searching for you—”

Castiel turned around, slowly, and lifted his face. Michael immediately fell silent, and began to turn a sickly shade of pale.

“Is that blood?” Michael asked lowly, and then his horrified elder brother vaulted to him, reaching out to take Castiel’s shoulders softly under his hands, his eyes wide and frantic. “Castiel, what happened? Who did this to you? Are you alright?”

Castiel looked up slowly, and met Michael’s eyes. And then he laughed softly, soullessly, and murmured, “I think our father has a few fans.”

Michael bypassed pale and moved into an unearthly shade of green, his hands tightening fractionally, before he demanded shakily, “What happened?”

“I should have known it wasn’t over,” Castiel mumbled miserably, his words slurring together, and then his vision turned to a worrisome black again, and, this time, he lost consciousness on his feet, to the sound of his brother frantically yelling his name.

~*~

Castiel didn’t leave his room for the rest of Saturday, and none of his siblings, other than Michael, dared to enter. Castiel had woken up from his second bout of consciousness when Michael was halfway up the stairs, holding him like a child tightly against his chest, whispering that he would be okay and that everything was going to be fine. Michael had laid him down in his bed and got him ice and painkillers and water, and he had taken a temporarily leave in order to call their siblings who had, apparently, been worried sick about him when he hadn’t come home in time, and they had all gone searching. Michael had returned to change him out of his clothes and to anxiously sit next to his bed, and he told Castiel that they were getting ready to call the police if this last sweep had turned up nothing.

Castiel wondered how the hell he had managed to get home without crossing paths with one of the impromptu search parties, and he figured that fate was simply just being a complete bitch to him.

Michael had made another attempt to ask Castiel what had happened when he had first got him into bed, and Castiel had wearily admitted that, yes, it had been an assault. But he had refused to give Michael any names, knowing that his lawyer brother wouldn’t rest until there was some kind of judicial justice for their actions, and Castiel didn’t have the heart to even ruin a giant asshole like Zachariah and his little gang of pompous rich boys. Somehow, Castiel was too kind.

It was almost hilarious to consider. Castiel was the same person that had thought out every single way he could have ended Zachariah’s life as he had been standing before him, poised to attack.

Michael had to get up and deal with their siblings moments after Castiel denied him names, leaving Castiel with one more anxious look before rushing down the stairs, tending to the yells of Balthazar and Anna from the living room, calling to Michael and Castiel and asking what was happening. Castiel had just closed his eyes, listening to their yells dim, and then Gabriel and Hael’s starting up when they reappeared.

Castiel had never felt so tired in his life.

Michael, despite being eight years his senior and generally knowing next to nothing about Castiel’s life, seemed to understand that he wouldn’t want to see anyone, so he barred all of their siblings from coming into his room. He brought Castiel water, and food, and pills, and Castiel hadn’t even been sure on how to convey his thanks to his brother. When he opened his mouth and tried to say words that showed his gratitude, Michael had just smiled sadly, and had asked him if he needed anything else.

Michael stayed home from work on Sunday, despite Castiel’s insistence that Michael shouldn’t miss a potentially valuable meeting just to watch him lay in bed, but his brother would hear nothing of it. Castiel ended up sleeping through the majority of the day, Michael typing at his laptop from his bedside, and it was the best sleep that Castiel had gotten in years.

However, being babied definitely came with setbacks.

“I’m going to school tomorrow,” Castiel insisted, and then cut Michael off with a glare. “I’m not sick, Michael. I’m injured. I can make it around for six hours and then come home. I’m not making you miss work for one more day.”

“Fine,” Michael responded, eyes flashing. “Stay home for one more day, and I’ll go to work and do business as normal. How does that sound?”

Castiel hesitated, knowing Michael and knowing there would be a catch, but he still said, “Fine.”

“Fine,” Michael echoed, and that was that.

~*~

In the silence of the house on Monday mid-morning, held captive by the promise that one of his brothers was going to stop by to make sure he hadn’t left the house, Castiel managed to drag himself downstairs for a bowl of cereal, settling into the chair and wondering how much more difficult the trip up was going to be from the trip down, and his thought process was promptly interrupted by the sound of the front door bursting open, and Gabriel’s voice, amplified, bouncing off the walls.

“Rise and shine, runaway!” Gabriel boomed, charging to the stairs, moving in Castiel’s general direction in the kitchen in the back of the house. “It’s time to get you something to eat and some proper medical attention in the eyes of Eventual Doctor Novak!”

Gabriel started to move past the open doorway to the kitchen, where Castiel was sitting in plain sight of, but then he froze. His gaze snapped over to Castiel, his eyes widening suddenly, and Castiel had rarely ever seen his trickster of a second-eldest brother look so blindsided. Gabriel blinked, and then he was turning to look at Castiel head on, hissing in breath through his teeth.

“Oh, Cassie,” Gabriel murmured, his tone sad. “You really got fucked up, huh?”

“Remarkably,” Castiel responded a little too acerbically, leaning back in his chair and toying with his cereal spoon, ignoring the new cut on his arm and the scraps on his palms. “And there’s not really anything to treat, if you want to practice for med school.”

“Shit, you’re telling me,” Gabriel responded, walking over to press his fingers under Castiel’s chin, guiding his head up to get a good look at his bruise. “Multiple contusions, probably muscle bruising on that hip, by the sounds of it. Michael said you got hit in the head? That it made you pass out a few times?”

“I’m fine now,” Castiel offered instead of a real answer, but it was answer enough, and Gabriel nodded.

“That’s good, I guess. Damn, Cassie. No wonder Michael’s head hit the roof when he went to the police station.”

Castiel froze, and then demanded sharply, “What?”

“Oh, did you not know?” Gabriel asked too innocently, his eyes widening dramatically. Gabriel, although he would never come right out and say it, would always tell people the truth or a secret if he thought it was their business. Castiel was usually loathsome of this trait, but it was definitely coming in handy now, and that was undeniable. “Anna offered some names, and Michael went down to the police station waving a report and getting irate over the police’s incompetence, since you’d obviously been unconscious in the middle of town in broad daylight. Michael probably won’t press charges, but he wants to have the report in at the station with their names on it, just in case it becomes a problem later. Heard anything you want to bitch about yet?”

“I’m too sore in the head to bitch,” Castiel replied honestly.

“Fair enough,” Gabriel replied, and then got up to fetch a giant bowl of chocolate pudding from the fridge. He put it down in between them casually, handing Castiel a spoon before he dug in. Castiel paused, considering his manners, and figured that he could only see out of one eye and what the hell did manners matter if there wasn’t anyone else home, so he joined in.

The two of them sat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, both of them mulling on their pudding, before Gabriel said, “Would the names Anna gave Michael be right?”

Castiel didn’t respond, which was certainly a good enough answer.

“Are you alright?” Gabriel asked him, and then added, “Mentally, I mean. I’m sure it triggered you, from what had been happening at home before we got back—and don’t give me that look, I’m not fucking clueless. I might act like a child, but my brain is definitely man-sized, and I think even my brother side can tell what abuse scars look like without my medical student side kicking in. So. Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” Castiel said, but he wasn’t sure if it was the truth or a lie.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no.”

Gabriel nodded, and went back to eating more pudding than a single human should be able to stomach, allowing Castiel to have the space and silence that he desired, all while giving him the company that he would refuse to admit to craving—and, sometimes, in moments like this, Gabriel really surprised him.

And then—

“Today, a kid in the emergency room ate like two industrial-sized boxes of Pixie Stix, and he vomited the rainbow,” Gabriel enlightened him, sniggering. “It was hilarious, dude. You should have seen it.”

“No thank you,” Castiel responded haughtily and then, despite his own stubbornness, laughed.

Sometimes, siblings were the worst.

And, other times, they were the only ones that understood.

Castiel was entirely grateful for that.

~*~

Castiel waited until Gabriel was good and gone before getting dressed, picking up his backpack off of the floor of his bedroom, and sneaking out the front door, walking all the way to the high school without taking a break, and arriving only a few minutes after the lunch period began. The secretary gave him a frightened gaze when he walked into the office to ask for a late slip, and she handed it to him wordlessly, making sure their hands wouldn’t accidentally touch. Castiel almost wanted to roll his eyes at her, but didn’t have the energy, so he just thanked her and ducked into the semi-crowded hall, hanging his head to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

Castiel, back before his father was locked away, back in the two-year hell where he had been his father’s very own punching bag, had used that time to distance himself from others, to push away from them. He winced every time someone looked him in the eye, and he stared at people in order to get them to file him away as a freak and leave him alone. He used defense mechanisms in an attempt to escape reality and he felt himself falling back into those same familiar patterns with every staggered step he took forward, feeling himself collapsing in on himself the way he had felt himself starting to shatter on his walk of shame back to his home after the altercation.

Whether Castiel wanted to believe it or not, he couldn’t help but to admit that his father seemed to have been right in one of his observations about Castiel—he fared much better when he stayed back and observed, rather than throwing himself into the middle of the action.

He had walked into the spotlight, made himself a target. He had fallen victim to the same horrors. He felt himself locking down, bracing for an impact that may or may not come.

Castiel’s expression was steeled like a solider walking onto the front lines when he pushed open the doors of the cafeteria, and his eyes automatically fell on his usual table, his shoulders hunching defensively like they were his worst enemies.

He only made it three steps into the room before Anna spotted him. She had been in a conversation with Jo and Dean, her eyes lit up, her hair done up in curls and twists with a little bow, and his heart lurched, realizing just how young Anna was, even if he was only one year older. It was then, as she was laughing, that she glanced up as if hyperaware of his proximity, and he watched as the light disappeared from her eyes and the joy dropped from her face like plummeting off of a cliff, and he hated himself so much for pulling his little sister out of just natural human delight.

He read his name on her lips, watching her expression turned startled, shaken, and he had to remind himself that this was the first time she would have seen him since the injury. He shot her a weak grin before taking the next several steps to close the space between them, their friends catching on Anna’s unease and beginning to search for the source. Dean was the first to turn, right as Castiel was rounding the table to the open space where he typically sat, and Castiel saw his jaw drop.

“Castiel,” Anna breathed, eyes wide. “I thought Michael told you to stay home.”

“What Michael does not know will not harm him,” Castiel responded easily, slowly, weighing his words as he slowly lowered himself onto the bench seat, grimacing as he grabbed at his searing hip. Anna flinched like each syllable was a splash of acid onto her skin.

She met Castiel’s eyes—or, rather, his eye and a half—and she looked like he had punched her in the stomach.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Dean demanded from across the table, “Cas, what the hell happened?”

Castiel glanced at him, and then quickly looked away, retreating into himself.

Dean, however, wasn’t that easily deterred, and his truthfully concerned expression was enough to draw Castiel’s gaze as he continued to ask, “Who did this to you? When?”

And then Dean was leaning over the table, one hand reached out as if to touch Castiel, and he couldn’t help it.

He flinched.

Dean froze immediately, his expression turning from concern to anguish.

Jo’s eyes were kind, sad. Garth looked like he had just watched a small child get stabbed. Ash just continued to chew at his food, staring at Castiel contemplatively.

It was Charlie that said, in a small voice, “It was Zachariah, wasn’t it?”

It was phrased like a question, but it didn’t sound like one. Castiel didn’t even bother to answer. He just looked down at his hands, his fingers knit tightly together, hunching his shoulders and hoping that he may fold up so small that he would simply disappear.

He caught sight of Dean’s movement as he lowered himself down onto the bench. Castiel didn’t look up, not wanting to know what expression might transpire on his face now. Castiel had so hoped that Dean Winchester would be his salvation, his savior from his dark and murky mind, but now he was too afraid to even look at him.

Emmanuel Novak had corrupted his mind like a poison, leaving behind lasting side effects. Castiel wasn’t sure what the recovery time would be. Apparently, three months was not long enough.

Dean suddenly cursed, loud and sharp and heated, and it stunned Castiel so effectively that he looked up. “Did that fucker corner you?” Dean demanded, his fists curling tightly on the tabletop. “Let me guess, he brought his friends along, huh? Made sure you were outnumbered like the fucking coward he is?”

“Dean,” Charlie cautioned, her gaze flickering to Castiel in worry, and it was then that Castiel couldn’t hold his silence, his fragility, and he looked up with hardened eyes and a clamped jaw, and he didn’t bother to speak until he met Dean’s eyes.

“He wanted me to fight back,” Castiel grated out reluctantly, “but I refused.”

His response momentarily dumbfounded Dean, his green eyes speaking his thoughts in ways words could never be able to, and Castiel felt his insides turning to ice as Dean opened and closed his mouth, looking like he couldn’t even fathom a proper response.

And then he asked, “Why? Why didn’t you fight back?”

Castiel couldn’t help it—he let out an incredulous laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” Dean demanded, sounding almost hurt. Castiel shook his head slightly, the silence and attention of all of their friends threatening to crush him, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Anna was frozen at this side, unmoving.

In response, Castiel just shook his head, hoping his expression would be enough to get Dean to drop it. Dean, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood for interpretation, because he surged on, “You know he’s not gonna stop until you do something, right?”

“I know how bullies work,” Castiel finally managed to snap, eyes locking on Dean with the heat of a withering glare. “I am not a child, and do not need to be lectured on the laws of human nature. I am acquainted with the will of violent minds like Zachariah’s. I lived with a psychopath for my entire life—I think I know by now how to take a beating.”

At first, it didn’t seem to click. And then it did.

Anna’s sharp hiss of inhaled breath was met with Charlie reaching up cover her mouth, and Garth’s jaw dropped. Ash paused in his chewing, and Jo gripped the edge of the table. Dean—Dean looked like Castiel had reached inside of his chest, and torn out his heart right in front of him.

Horror didn’t even begin to describe the expression on Dean’s face. Maybe devastation. Something akin to panic. The second Castiel’s rage had allowed the words to fly, he hadn’t expected much different.

But, still. It did not make it any easier to face it in real time, the reality of what he had just said sinking in, the insinuation that he had made loud and clear, the accusation that would ring in his ears for the foreseeable future.

Castiel had never told anyone outside of his family what had happened to him before. He had told the FBI Special Agent that worked his father’s case tirelessly, a weary but stern man named Victor Hendrickson, locked away in an interrogation room two days after his father’s arrest. He had told him everything, everything that he could, and the man had kept a stony face, looking at Castiel like he pitied him but also like he suspected him, and Castiel from that moment had locked the truth back inside of himself and walked the earth like it didn’t matter, and it never would, because it was simply a solid fact of his resistance that his father had physically abused him, and it needn’t be muttered aloud.

And then, he had said it. It had come out so easily, so much like the fact it was, that it nearly felt like it had when his father was pounding his fists against his skin, painful in theory and practice but worse because of the ache of betrayal lingering sharp and steady underneath of his ribs.

Castiel had known these people a week, and he had just told them a horrific secret like he was telling them the weather.

He reacted in the only way he knew how.

He retreated.

Castiel grabbed his bag and stumbled from the table, forgetting about the ache in his hip momentarily in his rush to get away, and he heard Anna cautiously call his name before it was lost in the crowd, and he was lost in the crowd, slipping back into his camouflage taught to him by one of America’s most dangerous serial killers, and he wound his way through the hallways until he found an empty one in the back of the building, next to what appeared to be the choir room and a set of bathrooms. It wasn’t until then did Castiel stop moving, slumping until he hit the wall, and using it to balance him as he slid down helplessly, his pulse in his ears.

He was so stupid.

He was foolish. He had let himself into a position where he could only be vulnerable, and he had deluded himself into believe that he would thrive in it. He had managed to convince himself that he could become someone like Anna, or Charlie, or Dean, where social interaction didn’t include spotting the weakest of the crowd, the prey for the predator. He thought that he might be able to merge into a process of normal that would stick like superglue, binding him to the real world. And, as with all other things, Castiel had set himself up for this long downhill tumble, where he could only sit back and watch his attempts fall down around his ears, ruined and smoking and smoldering before it even hit the ground.

Castiel hated for letting himself hope. He hated how light and amazing it had made him feel, and how broken and deluded it ended up allowing him to become.

Hope was such a strong emotion. He understood now how it had the ability to destroy worse than wrath could.

Castiel half expected someone to come after him—it had been a common occurrence since they had left Illinois, someone always caring too much about him, worrying about letting him be alone for too long. They must have considered him a flight risk, or they must have realized that they had never shown him the spectrum of how much they cared—no matter the case, Castiel was getting used to falling into the same routine.

Normally, though, it was Anna. Castiel was almost blindsided when a figure turned the corner, and it was petite lovely Hael.

Hael didn’t break her stride, barely even blinked, when Castiel tilted his head up to look at her, taken aback by her very presence. She didn’t offer him a word as she dropped her book-bag carelessly beside him and slumped down in its wake, scooting until their sides were pressed together. Hael did nothing more than lean her head on his shoulder and curl both of her arms around one of his, hugging herself close to him and closing her eyes, but it somehow worked wonders in a way that words would never be able to.

He didn’t know how much she had heard. He didn’t know if she knew at all. Either way, it was one of the gentlest shows of compassion that Castiel had ever known, and it disarmed him enough that he leaned his head softly on top of her head, and let his eyes shut as well.

They sat there until the bell rang. And then, as one, they stood and picked up their bags, looked into each other’s eyes, and then walked to class.

Castiel didn’t look at Dean once.

He wished he would have listened to Michael, and just stayed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently continuing my theme of forgetting to edit things, so unedited! D: Sorry about that! I'll probably fix it tonight!
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	7. Resolution from Despair

September continued, and resolved, with an unexpected ease of normalcy. After Castiel’s blurting admission the second week of school, Anna had dragged him back to the table the next day Michael had allowed him back into society (Thursday, which Castiel still argued as being ridiculously overprotective, but he was secretly humbled), and Castiel had been surprised to find that his friends were acting as though nothing had happened at all.

Well—not exactly nothing. He could tell they still considered it, especially when his bruises were still visible, but they didn’t treat him any differently. They didn’t hesitate to throw out meaningless insults threatening violence, and no one shot him a look of paralyzing pity when none of the others were looking. They seemed to have embraced it, accepted the personal experience as something about Castiel that wasn’t changeable and shouldn’t be changed, and Charlie spent the entirety of Thursday and Friday’s lunch times ranting to Castiel about LARPing, and how he should totally look into it and come with her one weekend when he wasn’t busy.

Nonetheless, despite the ease of the conversation, despite the casual smiles, despite how he and Dean had fallen back into their usual pattern of exchanging quips and less-than-subtle flirtations, Castiel was still holed up inside of himself, looming silent when he wasn’t being addressed, never stepping into the spotlight. The others didn’t know him long enough to notice the change. Anna, however, who had been observing him getting better for that short amount of time, sometimes had a sadness in her gaze when she turned to him, but there was nothing Castiel was willing to do to fix it, so they followed that pattern until Anna stopped sympathizing with him.

They still invited him and Anna to their gatherings every Friday. Castiel would listen to their plans, see and feel their excitement as they discussed their new adventures and, ignoring the yearning in his chest, would tell them he would have to babysit, and urge Anna to go in his stead.

Anna acted as though she didn’t know how to argue with him. Perhaps she didn’t. Altogether, still, she went without much complaint, leaving Castiel to fall back into his protective bubble of home and protecting, watching after his youngest siblings even though a few were outgrowing the necessity to be babysat, and he watched quietly from the sidelines as they grew up as normal as they would ever be.

If Michael noticed the change, he said nothing. Once the bruises faded and he had stopped worrying about Castiel’s mental stability, Michael had faded back into that overseer part of his life, a fly on the wall, a watchful protector. He gave Castiel the space he felt he needed, but, this time, Castiel didn’t know if he should be insulted or thankful.

All in all, life went on.

The song remained the same until the fourth week. One month later, and one simple detail changed, and the rest of the dominos fell into place.

The doorbell rang.

Castiel glanced up from where he was humoring Samandriel in a game of trucks, almost entirely thrown off by the change in routine. Samandriel looked up and blinked in the direction of the door, rolling one of the trucks closer to him, before he looked back down and continued playing. Hael skipped out of the kitchen, her eyebrows up, and she exchanged a shrug with Castiel before she walked to the door, waving him off when he started to stand.

Castiel heard her open the door. And then stunned silence.

“Uh,” a familiar voice began uncertainly, and Castiel felt like he had been struck by lightning, his skin heating up and a shutter of surprise rolling through his body, knowing that voice anywhere. “Hey. Is, uh, Cas home?”

“Yes,” Hael began slowly, and Castiel could practically hear her eyebrows rising. He scrambled onto his feet, murmuring a hurried apology in the wake of an annoyed gaze from Sammy, and he rushed to the entry, turning the corner and bracing himself. Hael must have heard him coming, because she was already turning to face him, her eyebrows up just as Castiel expected them to be and amusement anything but subtle in her expression. Dean was hovering nervously at the steps, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket and the other rubbing at the back of his neck.

And then, because he was a moron, Castiel reached up and tried to fix his hair, staring at Dean like most people would stare at a car crash.

“Dean,” Castiel said his name like none of the people in the entry were aware of it. Hael looked in between them curiously, her glee winning the battle over her curiosity, her smirk a million different shades of dangerous. “I—didn’t expect to see you here. Uh, isn’t tonight the movie night?”

“Sorry for just showing up,” Dean told him, wincing, everything so awkward that Castiel kind of wished he had the power to disappear into thin air on command. “I was wondering if . . . we could talk.”

Hael was practically vibrating with hysterical laughter as she said softly, “I’m gonna go check on how Sammy is doing,” and then took her leave, Castiel hearing her muffled laughter before she was even entirely hidden behind the wall. He turned to glare at her back for good measure before turning back to Dean, smiling lamely and sheepishly.

“I’m sorry about that,” Castiel said awkwardly, and Dean waved it off with a dismissive hand gesture, a real smile beginning to shine through. Castiel, meanwhile, kind of just wanted to lay down and never get back up again. He cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck anxiously. “What did you want to talk about?”

It was Dean’s turn to get awkward. He kicked at the ground, his cheeks dusting with color, and it was fascinating to watch in Castiel’s perspective, so interesting to see the way a boy as confident and kind and trusting as Dean Winchester could hide within himself behind himself, not shrinking away but not standing up, embarrassed but not retreating. Castiel wondered if there would ever come a day where he wouldn’t be entirely and illogically transfixed by Dean and his mannerisms and words.

“Uh,” Dean began eloquently, wincing at his own hesitation. “Could you maybe, uh . . . Could we go somewhere else? Like, do you want to go back to my place? I just—here’s not—”

Dean just shook his head helplessly, not knowing what else to say. Castiel bit the inside of his cheek to remind him that, sometimes, smiling at Dean for doing something adorable might be seen as stalkerish or otherwise disturbing.

And then Castiel realized what he said.

Castiel blinked, slowly, and then demanded, “Your place?”

Dean turned a brighter shade of pink and mumbled an affirmative.

It was Castiel’s turn to start feeling his cheeks heat up. “I need to, uh, look after my siblings,” Castiel stammered, kind of wanting to just hide his face in horrific embarrassment. Dean’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I mean, I guess I could, uh, ask Hael to—”

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Balthazar commented, appearing behind Dean with a big smirk, eyes twinkling mischievously, even as Dean jumped like he had just been sucker punched. “This is like the first-date scene in a rom-com.”

“What are you doing back?” Castiel demanded, dumbstruck. Balthazar slid around Dean and pushed past Castiel into the house, whistling much too cheerily, obviously having fun with the moment he had just walked in on. Castiel kind of wanted to hit him, but knew that if he did he would probably have to walk to school for the next month, so he dropped that idea like a hot potato. Instead, he looked to Dean, who was beginning to turn as red as someone on holiday at a beach that fell asleep under the sun.

Balthazar laughed again, not too kindly, and waved Castiel off like an annoyingly bothersome fly. “Karma finally swung my way and I got a few hours off, that’s what happened. I’ll look after the tikes, Cassie. You go mack on your boyfriend.”

“He’s not,” Castiel began to deny Dean as his boyfriend, and realized he was fighting an unnecessary battle, that Balthazar was never going to relent because teasing him was practically an Olympic sport to two out of three of his eldest brothers, so instead he just let out a long breath of air and reluctantly agreed, “Alright, if you’re sure you can handle it.”

Balth snorted and waved him off again, this time going so far as to actually manhandle Castiel a few staggering steps forward, sending him onto the porch with a thoroughly embarrassed and slightly mortified Dean Winchester. “Au revoir!” Balthazar sang in a horrible falsetto before sending a filthy wink to the pair and promptly slamming the door in their faces.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, staring at the closed door. And then Castiel reached up and covered his face with his hands, kind of hoping that a chasm would open up directly under his feet and just swallow him up whole and spit him out into the sun.

“I really hate my siblings sometimes,” Castiel shared unnecessarily, too horrified to even peak through his fingers to see Dean’s reaction. “I am so, so sorry.”

Dean didn’t answer. Castiel finally got the courage to chance a glance over his fingers and to the boy beside him, only to discover that Dean was laughing, silently laughing with his whole body thrown into it, his reddened cheeks highlighted by his bright smile. Castiel’s hands dropped as he stared openly, entranced by Dean, as Dean glanced over at him, his green eyes sparkling, and Castiel wasn’t much for being cliché but he couldn’t help but to think right then and there, _I think I love him_.

“That was the most awkward and most hilarious moment of my entire life,” Dean assured him cheerfully, his grin practically splitting his face. Castiel was nearly breathless with the intensity, with his realization, and he belatedly hoped that it didn’t show on his face. “There’s seriously nothing to apologize about, Cas, it’s fine. I’m the one that came here.”

“Okay,” Castiel managed to say.

“And you don’t have to come, you know,” Dean said, suddenly retreating a little, like he remembered the misstep in their dance at the revelation of Emmanuel Novak’s favorite home hobby and he was stumbling, trying to get back into rhythm, but it was already broken. Dean offered him a small grin, but it was a grin nonetheless. “I know your brother literally pushed you out the door, so it’s fine if—”

“Dean,” Castiel replied and, as if the word spoke millions of syllables except for the one, Dean’s smile spread from small and shy to blinding and beautiful, relieved and inviting, and all Castiel could think about was love, and how, if his broken spirit could ever come close, this would be it in spades, and Castiel would do anything for Dean. Asking Castiel to his place of residence was the minor leagues, and Castiel would come when Dean called.

Dean, clueless and lovely, just gestured to his car, and smiled. “After you, Mr. Novak.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Castiel replied before rolling his eyes, pushing Dean to the side lightly, and Dean wobbled back into step behind him with a laugh like the one in Charlie’s backyard, one that echoed up to the moon, and Castiel fell in love again and again to the soundtrack of Dean’s laugh and the growl of the Impala and the look in Dean’s eyes when he noticed Castiel noticing.

~*~

The house on the Singer Auto and Salvage lot was not too big and not too small; just right. It was two stories with a basement, three bedrooms, and a kitchen with an old whirring refrigerator that clunked every once in a while for no good reason. When Dean lead him through the door, Castiel’s eyes wandering around to look at every nook and cranny—the rickety wooden coat rack by the door filled two-thirds with familiar jackets, the squeaky old wood floors, the maroon wallpaper, the stairway leading above and beyond—Dean had taken a moment to look ashamed, staggering over his words in sorrys and excuses Castiel didn’t want to have to hear, because there was nothing wrong in the house and there was something about this old place that felt like a home and not a house, and Castiel silenced all of Dean’s worries with a smile and soft touch to his wrist that he dropped immediately, so afraid of stepping too far over the line. But Dean’s tension relaxed, and his smile was beautiful, and Castiel hoped there wasn’t a person in the world who enjoyed seeing Dean Winchester suffer.

They barely made it past the living room before they saw Sam, who was emerging from the next-door kitchen with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a paper novel from the advanced freshmen English class in the other. He looked over at them when their conversation halted, almost surprised to find other people existed in the world, but Sam didn’t take long before he smiled courteously and nodded at Castiel before starting up the stairs, swallowing the mouthful he had been chewing.

“Bobby’s working in the barn tonight,” Sam enlightened Dean with seemingly no other context but a casual reminder, but Dean’s eyes narrowed into a glare and Sam laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. And then the younger boy disappeared into the second story, a door closing soundly behind him, and Castiel was left with a faint amusement and a burning curiosity to better understand the Winchester dynamic.

“For such a smart kid, he’s definitely an idiot,” Dean let Castiel know when he asked about the confrontation, Dean turning a shade of pink. He paused to open a door in the hallway that led to a stairway down, and gestured for Castiel to go first. “Don’t worry about him.”

“I wasn’t worrying,” Castiel said, confused about why Dean would feel he should, but Dean just laughed from behind him, his hands brushing Castiel’s forearms as he lead him to the left of the stairs, where Castiel turned to find a little extra living space, decorated with an ungodly ugly rug, a weathered couch, and a television. There were also about three beanbags set up and, once Castiel looked properly, he found at least three gaming systems under the television set.

Always noticing when Castiel noticed things, always perceptive of the boy who perceives too much, Dean stated, “Sam and I come down here when we don’t wanna interrupt Bobby, or be interrupted.”

“I see,” Castiel commented as he sank down into the couch, automatically relaxing when he found the piece of furniture possibly too relaxing to be legal. Dean flopped down beside him, still closer than the average friend but far enough away that their arms barely brushed when Dean rolled his shoulders. Castiel considered his dignity, and then shot it all to hell when he asked, “I’ve been carefully not asking about your parents the last few weeks.”

“I’ve noticed,” Dean let out with a puff of startled laughter, a smirk curling onto the edge of his lips. “You tiptoe around us, especially after what happened with Zachariah. Like you don’t think you’re allowed to ask questions.”

“My upbringing meant that I couldn’t,” Castiel admitted, relenting on his strong current stance of letting nothing of his family’s past be known, not since the abuse slip that just felt like a festering wound out in the open more days than not. “And, above all else, intrusive questions when they are not welcome are not always the best way to begin a friendship.”

“Well, we’re definitely friends by now, you know?” Dean asked, smiling shyly over at Castiel, his hands fidgeting nervously together in his lap. “Like, I consider you to be a great friend. I would answer that question for you, you know? You’re one of the only people I know that really listen to me.”

Castiel felt like he’d had a mission coming down those steps, but he was immediately tripped up by that statement, thoroughly distracted. He turned to look at Dean, half expecting the teen to just be continuing his streak of questionable, odd humor, but Dean was looking at Castiel—well, like a victim. His face was vulnerable, like Castiel was holding Dean’s soul in his hands and he could either fix it or shred it to pieces, and his shoulders were curled in defensively, and his hands were stuttering in his lap. Castiel’s stomach fell down through the earth when he saw that look on Dean’s face.

Castiel forgot that most people didn’t hide their fear of the world by lingering in the background. He forgot that some people throw themselves into the thick of things with a manicured smile and a twisted sense of humor and hope for the best.

He should have known that he felt so connected to Dean Winchester from the very first moment simply because they were the same—they were broken by something in the past. And they were picking up the pieces, the shards tearing into their skin, but persevering still.

Kindred spirits. Castiel and Dean were kindred spirits.

And Dean was reaching out to him.

Castiel didn’t think twice before reaching back.

“Dean,” Castiel said, sounding admonishing and sad and confident, and Dean’s face twitched back into something a little more controlled. “Dean, everyone, all the people we know, they listen to you. Complete strangers listen to you. You, you’re kind of like a storm, you know? Like a hurricane, or a monsoon, or something that can come into your life without warning and can turn it upside down, can send you into something so new, but the thing about storms? They bring the rain that flowers need to grow, that cities need to survive. You’re not a natural disaster; you’re the kind of blessing old cultures used to dance and chant to bring. You talk, and everyone listens, because you’re the thing that set them right-side up again. You’re the answer to their prayers, Dean. Anyone would be blessed to have you as their friend.”

Dean, for a moment, embraced the silence that lingered after Castiel’s speech to look to his hands, collecting himself and his thoughts. Castiel sat silently with him. And then Dean smiled, shakily, and said, “I don’t really believe in all of that praying stuff, Cas.”

“I don’t, either,” Castiel admitted, and then added, “not anymore.”

Dean just nodded, slowly.

“But you, Dean?” Castiel continued softly, offering his friend that his heart panged for a kind smile, “You’re the kind of prayer I would have made this time last year.”

Castiel had meant it as the best of all compliments, but it still surprised him a little to see Dean so affected by his words. His eyes clouded over and he looked away, biting down on his lip, but his shoulders straightened, just a little less vulnerable, and it was like the pressure on Castiel’s chest relieved itself a little bit.

 _Oh god_ , Castiel thought to himself, looking at the beautiful boy in front of him. _I definitely love him._

And he did. He didn’t know how people couldn’t fall in love with the expressive, kind, brave, strong, loving soul of Dean Winchester. He loved him the same way the moon loved the tide, and Castiel would stand in front of a bullet for him, would climb mountains and sail across oceans in his honor. If Dean Winchester asked him to do something, Castiel would spring into action, and he would not rest until Dean was happy, because it felt like one of the only things left in the world that mattered.

And then Dean blurted out, “My mother was murdered by a serial killer.”

And everything crash-landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Slang


	8. That Cruel Serpent

Dean wouldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on his own fingers, and where they were twitching anxiously in his lap. Castiel watched him, wide-eyed, unable to breathe. Waiting for everything to go sour.

“I didn’t want to tell you that for a while,” Dean confessed into the tense silence, still not looking at Castiel. “At first, I didn’t want to seem weird, like I was trying to use it to become your best friend or something. And then it was just . . . unnecessary, you know? We were so far past that being what defined us. I didn’t want to bring it back up, but then Charlie pointed out that I shouldn’t treat it like a secret if I . . . you know.”

Castiel didn’t know, but he was too afraid to ask. He was afraid that, if he spoke, his voice would fail him, and he would be left suffocating on air while trying to cling to having Dean in his life. And he was so, so afraid that this conversation had the potential to ruin them, just after he had realized the depth of his feelings for Dean Winchester.

For Castiel, it was practically typical of his average luck to have things go this far south the moment it felt like it was moving up. He should have known better.

Dean swallowed hard. He still wouldn’t look at him. Castiel wondered when he would stop expecting him to.

“Charlie at first wasn’t sure how I would react to you,” Dean enlightened him, his lips twitching up into a mockery of a smile. “She told me that she warned you about me. She didn’t know if I would realize who your dad was and lose my mind or something. I think she knew that you would either be my worst enemy, or my best friend. And I’m really glad you turned out to be my friend.”

Dean suddenly looked up. His green eyes were honest, raw, beseeching. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what expression was on his face. He half hoped he didn’t look as horrified as he felt. Even so, Dean didn’t hesitate, didn’t blink, just continued on as if they were having a completely normal conversation.

“Stop me if you don’t want me to continue, okay? At any time, if you don’t feel comfortable or don’t want to know, just tell me. I—I just want to be honest with you, and that means being honest about this, too.”

Dean paused then, just long enough to take a deep breath, and then he was off.

“Back when I was a kid, really little, we lived in Lawrence, a little north of here, me and my parents and, after a while, Sammy. When I was almost five, on Sammy’s six-month birthday, there was this house fire. I don’t really remember what happened, but when my dad got really drunk he sometimes talked about it. He heard my mom scream and then, by the time he got up to Sammy’s nursery, the room was on fire, and she was on the ground bleeding, gone. He grabbed Sam from the crib and handed him to me and told me to run, and I took off with my brother, ran out of that house just like my dad told me to. My dad, he was a Fed, so he had seen a lot of crime scenes and a lot of bodies, so he knew almost immediately that there was no saving her, but he tried, anyway. It didn’t take too long before the fire was too much, and he had to leave her behind. My dad ran out the door right before the fire became too much, spreading to the first floor. I don’t—I don’t remember much other than the fear, the heat, and my brother crying. I mean, in hindsight, that’s probably for the best, you know?

“My dad, after that, wasn’t the same. Bobby, he kept trying to tell my dad to snap out of that, to be there for me and Sam, but my dad knew what he saw, and he knew the signature of that serial killer like no one else. The guy who murdered my mom, he was Azazel, that one demonic killer that killed all of those mothers in their kid’s nursery, usually leaving behind a fire. It was pretty cut and dry to figure that one out, really, and the FBI was pretty quick to tell my dad that he was a conflict of interest, that they didn’t want him looking for him. But my dad didn’t listen to any of them. One night, probably a month or so after the fire, my dad put everything we owned into the trunk of the Impala and took off to look for Azazel. He never took us back to Lawrence.

“My whole childhood, really, was spent on the road. My dad raised us in backwoods motels. Sam and I went to dozens of schools a year, hopping between them as we went, Dad constantly on the move. He was determined to find this guy, obsessed. He used to train us, mostly me but Sam once he was around five, about how to defend ourselves, like how to fight and shoot a gun and hold a knife. Looking back on it, I realize how crazy it was. He was training us to be soldiers when we were barely old enough to tie our own shoes. He would leave me in charge of Sam for days on end—I had to raise him, really. I can’t tell you how many Christmases I had to watch Sam get let down again and again because Dad didn’t come back to the room. I never knew how to explain to Sam what was happening, too brainwashed by my dad to think that it was the only way we would be able to catch the guy that killed my mom, convinced that there was no other way. When, really, my dad was just running. He was hiding. From Bobby, and from everyone else behind us. From our mom and what she would have wanted. It was—it was no good way to grow up, I won’t lie to you. I was barely eight and I was more of a parent to Sam than our own father was.

“When I was a kid, when this was all happening, some nights I wouldn’t be able to sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if Dad never came home, if the food and the money ran out and we were left with nothing and our dad was dead somewhere and nobody would know to look for us, that nobody would know how to find us. It was terrifying for a kid to have to deal with. And then, I didn’t have to anymore. And it was so much worse.

“Sometime in the summer after I turned ten and Sammy was six, our dad didn’t come back. He had closed in on Azazel, and he had found him. He ended up shooting him, but not before Azazel stabbed my dad in the stomach. The backup my dad called for turned up in time to take Azazel into custody, and he was treated in the hospital. My dad died in the back of the ambulance.”

Castiel sucked in a breath, surprised. Dean smiled humorlessly.

“The Feds found us a few days later, after they informed Bobby and Bobby let them know that we would be somewhere in town. For two horrible weeks, CPS split up me and Sam into the foster care system. I don’t think I slept for those two weeks. I lost my dad, and then I practically lost my brother, all in the same week. It was horrible. I still remember it, and how I used to wake up from nightmares screaming. Thankfully, it only took those two weeks for them to read my dad’s will and authorize his wishes to have Bobby become our guardian, and they finally reunited us again. And then they brought us back to Lawrence.

“I’ve been really thankful for Bobby these last eight years. Bobby has done so, so much for us, has been the father that we deserved to have. Sam and I have more of a family here—Bobby, and then Jo and Ash and their mom Ellen, and even Bobby’s old buddy Rufus that works part-time in the garage and drinks way too much whiskey for his kidney to keep kicking for another five years.

“And, okay, I miss my dad and I’m really happy that Azazel got four lifetimes in Terra Haute for what he’s done. But I would be lying if I said that coming here to live with Bobby wasn’t one of the best things that had happened to me in my entire life, despite it all. And, you know, I like to think that you would get that, that maybe you think coming here was a good thing. But I don’t know. That might just be me trying to make all of this better. I don’t know.

“I just thought you deserved to know.”

Castiel was in so much shock that he almost didn’t register that Dean had stopped speaking for a moment. He was so caught up in trying to wrap his head around all of the things that Dean had told him—about his mother’s murder, about his life growing up on the road, to his father’s death—that he truly didn’t know what to say. Dean had bared his soul to him, had told him things about his life that Castiel never otherwise would have known if he didn’t trust him like he did, and Castiel suddenly cared about him so much and wanted to hug him and wanted to shield him from anything that would want to hurt him—

Instead, he heard himself say, “My father was not a kind man.”

Castiel paused, not entirely sure why that was what he began with. But Dean just nodded, urging him on, his eyes wide and truthful and eager as he looked at Castiel and tried to understand him, like he was doing a puzzle and analyzing the picture on the box, and Castiel wasn’t about to say no to him. He wouldn’t push Dean away when it was finally going right.

So Castiel continued.

“He seemed so, to other people. He was a pastor, a religious man. His sermons would bring people from all over to listen—his sermons were always so giving, so open and liberal. People loved him. He was kind to strangers, and he ran a soup kitchen on Christmas, and all of his kids worked hard for the church. The whole town practically worshipped us. At first, I think we all believed that was what got to his head. That it was his so-called fame. But, at the same time, I think we all knew we were wrong.

“At home, he was different. Calm. Cold. Calculating. He walked through the front door and the mask fell off, the personable man turned into a man who looked at things and weighed their worth before he decided what he thought. He trained us kids to work as a well-oiled machine. We did everything he asked us to do, brainwashed us from childhood that he was the best, that he was as holy as righteous as God, and not to let anyone let us believe otherwise. He believed himself to be an angel, a saint. The things that people call him crazy for saying now, all of the headlines he makes on the news for calling himself an avenging angel or an unforgiving god, those were all things that he used to tell us daily behind closed doors. Eventually, I realized that we were all just too scared of him not to believe him. I guess that, in the end, it really is fear that controls people more than anything else.

“He wasn’t kind. On Saturdays, he would take us all into the basement and he would preach to us his own religion, and how we should follow it. It mostly involved his own beliefs, and how he was a god among men. Sometimes, he told us about killers and praised them for being noble, cunning. Michael was the first of us to call him out, to question that they were not what our father made them out to be, and our father reacted so coldly that we never did it again. We didn’t like the way he had looked at him. Like Michael had betrayed him. Michael fell back into step, and we never questioned it again.

“And then Michael went to school. And then Gabriel ran away, and Balthazar followed suit. And then it was just me left of his four eldest boys—he used to call us his _Archangels_ —and my four younger siblings under me. He looked at us, and he finally seemed to realize that he was losing us. That his sons left him, and then I would leave, and then all of us would leave. And it made him angry, angrier than I had ever seen him. It seemed to break his self-control, and what followed after was—unpleasant.

“I must have been sixteen when I walked into the house and saw my father about to attack Hael with a baseball bat. I stepped in front of him and told him that he would have to take me out before he would ever touch one of my brothers or sisters. And he got this look in his eye, like he was going to stop. And then he swung. I don’t really remember much else about that night.

“He didn’t stop. You know that much, from our disagreement. It continued on until two weeks before my father was arrested this summer, me in front of my siblings, taking the so-called discipline that he felt they deserved, that he felt I needed for being disloyal. That night, he came home later than usual—Sam and Inias were already asleep, and Anna and Hael were watching a movie upstairs. I was in the kitchen, cleaning dishes, when he came through the front door. I heard him start laughing, and I walked out of the room, terrified of what I would see but knowing I couldn’t shy away from him. He was covered in blood. And, like that, everything I had denied in my head became real. All of my thoughts and realizations didn’t feel so farfetched anymore. I knew something was wrong. I knew he was psychotic. So I slipped away up the stairs, grabbed all of my siblings, and locked them in my room. I called Michael on my cell phone and told him what happened, and told him to come home. He said he would. I can only assume that he called the FBI, told them the tip. Michael showed up early the next morning, then Gabriel the next, Balthazar the day after that. About ten days later, it was the FBI knocking, and they dragged my father off in handcuffs. And then Michael took us to live here, to start over.

“My mother,” Castiel began, and then cut off, squaring his jaw. And then he laughed, sadly and humorlessly, before he managed to get out, “My mother walked out on us about a year after Samandriel was born—or, at least, that’s the story we tell people. We just can’t prove that my father murdered her.”

Castiel looked at Dean. He was looking a little paler.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Castiel said slowly, “that Balthazar and Gabriel do not look like the rest of us. Anna looks like our mother. I look like our father. And yet, there are two dirty blonds in the family, back-to-back.”

Dean met Castiel’s eyes, horrified. Castiel shook his head, and looked away.

“We can’t prove anything,” he repeated, a mantra he had been telling himself for so many months now. “Really, that’s the worst part—that we can’t prove it. It would be better if we knew. We don’t care about logistics like who is Novak blood and who isn’t. Gabriel and Balthazar are our brothers, and nothing will change that. But I want to know what happened to my mother. I want to know because I know she would not have run away from my father without taking as many of us as she possibly could with her, even if it meant that she only took Samandriel. She wouldn’t have gone alone. And that’s why I’m so convinced that she died by my father’s hand. But I cannot prove it, and that’s so much worse.

“I’m sorry to make you hear this. I just—you’re the first person—I trust you, Dean. I trust you more than most people on this planet, and I mean it when I say that, because I don’t trust many people. My father made sure of that. I just—I want to thank you, for trusting me. No one ever has before.”

“Cas,” Dean whispered, and he sounded so sad and pitying, but he also sounded so happy and relieved, and Castiel found the courage to look up into Dean’s eyes and see the wonder he held there, holding it close like a secret, and Castiel wanted to ask but before he could he was suddenly enveloped into a tight hug, Dean’s arms squeezing the life out of him, and Castiel paused. He hadn’t been hugged in a long time, not by anyone who wasn’t one of his family members, and Castiel moved slowly but surely when he raised his arms and curled them around Dean, pulling him as close as he could, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder.

Castiel didn’t ever want to move.

“We’re a fucked up pair, huh?” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s shoulder, turning his head so his smile pressed into Castiel’s neck, and Castiel felt his face burn with a blush as he smiled himself, so relieved and thankful for this that he didn’t have the words to properly convey it.

“I don’t think we’re fucked up,” Castiel murmured honestly, taking in a deep breath of Dean’s smell. “I think we’re just right.”

Dean pulled back, just far enough that they were facing each other, green eyes on blue, and Dean smiled a little before he was ducking back in, and Castiel didn’t have the chance to understand what was happening before Dean’s lips were on his, his hands sliding up his back and pulling him closer. Castiel breathed out a contented sigh before pulling Dean even closer, his fingers curling tightly in the back of the other boy’s t-shirt, and he felt Dean huff a laugh right before his teeth teased at Castiel’s bottom lip, and everything was perfect.

~*~

A half hour later, Castiel laid tucked in Dean’s arms on the slim couch, every part of him pressed into every part of Dean. Their legs were tangled together, and Castiel, when he looked down, almost couldn’t pick out which were his and where Dean began. Dean had one arm tucked around Castiel’s shoulders, Castiel using that shoulder as a pillow. His other hand was stroking soothingly through Castiel’s hair. Castiel’s were simply clutching at Dean’s shirt, holding onto him like he was afraid Dean would try to run.

After a long time sitting in silence, Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Castiel’s forehead. Castiel couldn’t stop the goofy grin from lighting up his face.

“Is this real?” Dean murmured into his skin, his fingers in Castiel’s hair combing through the strands softly, like he was afraid that moving too quickly would cause him to shatter. “I’m just—this is awesome. This is seriously awesome.”

Castiel laughed and nuzzled his face into Dean’s neck.

“This is nice,” Castiel breathed, practically humming.

“I’ve been hoping this would happen for a few weeks.”

“Really?”

“Really.” A pause. “Is that weird?”

“Not when I’ve been hoping for this for much longer,” Castiel confessed, lifting his face to see Dean’s, smiling when he found Dean was already watching him. He tilted his head up and pressed a kiss onto Dean’s jaw.

They lay there like that for a moment, rising and falling with each other’s breathing, Dean’s hand back to its rhythmic motions in Castiel’s hair that kind of made him feel like nothing could ever go wrong ever again. And then, Castiel found his voice again.

“Despite everything bad that happened to us, to bring us to this point,” he began slowly, “I’m glad it happened. I’m glad my family moved here and I met you. It’s one of the best things to ever happen to me. I just wanted you to know that.”

Castiel buried his head back in Dean’s shoulder, still so ready to face the sting of rejection, but rejection did not come. For a moment, nothing happened at all, and then Dean leaned forward and kissed the top of his head, the arm around his shoulder squeezing tighter, and Castiel felt the lips on his skin turn up into a smile.

“Me too, Cas,” Dean murmured. “Me too.”

They lay there together for a long, long time. And, for that long time, everything was okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. The semester is winding down and school is turning into quite the cruel mistress.
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	9. All This Good of Evil

When their friends find out about them, it’s both on accident and not.

They weren’t exactly planning on hiding it, although they were also hesitating at the thought of having to put a label to them. Castiel knew that they were dating, that they were exclusive—he knew it in the way they had to stop kissing for ten minutes last night just because they couldn’t stop smiling, and in the way he had looked over and seen Dean watching him like he couldn’t imagine having to spend a night not like this, and how Castiel had gone running the next morning and stopped outside of Singer Auto and Dean had stumbled hurriedly out of the door like he had been waiting there for hours. Castiel didn’t need to say anything to know where they stood, and the way Dean gripped his hand tight when they walked into the building said about the same. But it wasn’t until Castiel was pressing Dean against his locker and kissing him in a way he never thought he would kiss anyone in public that they heard the squeal, and they both seemed to realize simultaneously that they hadn’t told a soul about the way the tectonic plates of their lives had shifted and pulled them closer together.

Castiel broke apart from Dean, turning tomato red, but Dean caught him by the belt loops of his jeans and kept him close, smirking even though he was turning a little pink. Charlie stood about a foot away, her mouth hanging open like a comic, clutching her chemistry book to her chest.

They looked at her. She looked at them. And then she squealed so loud that the whole hallway turned and looked.

“I knew it!” she screeched, jumping up and down. “I knew it the second you left my house on Friday, Winchester, you horn dog! Oh my god, this is the best thing to happen to me since the third Harry Potter movie! _You guys_! Why didn’t you tell your best friend Charlie? I’m the reason you two lovebirds even know each other!”

Students were starting to look away, either smirking in amusement or grimacing in disgust. Castiel felt a flood of fear in his chest, a sinking feeling of _Don’t let yourself be seen, Castiel_ , but then it was going away, because Dean was grinning at his best friend like he had won the lottery, and he wasn’t bothered in the slightest that the fingers he had hooked in Castiel’s belt loops were pulling him closer still despite the staring, and Castiel couldn’t help but to lean into him, smiling because there would never be a day that he didn’t look at Dean Winchester and smile.

“Sorry,” Dean told her, sounding not sorry at all, and she gasped as if offended because she could tell too, but she was grinning so wide that all possibilities of making them feel guilty was entirely lost.

She reached out and punched Dean in the arm, and then punched Castiel. He winced. “Goddamn are you two the hottest couple this high school has ever seen.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to smirk at her. “Thank you, Charlie. We know.”

“I know you do, you attractive pieces of trash,” she sighed wistfully, but Castiel could see how happy she was for them, could see how them being happy made _her_ happy, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into a hug, but that would mean letting go of Dean and, at the moment, that didn’t seem like such a great idea.

“See you in homeroom?” Castiel prompted.

She sighed dramatically but nodded, whisking herself away from them dramatically with swinging hips and only waiting until she was about a dozen footsteps away before whirling around and yelling loud enough for everyone to hear, “Use protection!”

Castiel sighed heavily as Charlie skipped out of sight, a slight curl of embarrassment pooling in the pit of his stomach, but then Dean started laughing, the vibrations rumbling in his chest—Castiel could feel it, his hand over Dean’s rapidly beating heart—and Castiel cracked a grin and turned to look at him. Dean ducked forward and stole another kiss before shrugging away from his locker, letting Castiel go. Castiel took a step back as Dean rolled his shoulders, ducking down to grab his backpack where it laid forgotten on the ground with Castiel’s, dropped the second their lips locked. Dean flung it over his shoulder and grinned at him, wagging his eyebrows.

“Charlie gives such good advice, doesn’t she?” he asked, and then rolled his eyes, ducking forward for one last kiss. Castiel couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could Dean. “See you at lunch?” he murmured against his lips, running the back of his hand so softly down Castiel’s face.

“Don’t know where the hell else I would be,” Castiel mumbled, playing petulant, and then shoved Dean softly away when the boy tried to steal another kiss, laughing as he backed up, holding his book bag in one hand. “See you later, Dean.”

“Later, Cas,” Dean called, and Castiel was still smiling like an idiot long after he sat down next to Charlie in calculus, pretending not to see her smirk but knowing that he owed her more than anything, because she was right, and she was the reason he and Dean met, and he didn’t know how in the world he would be able to thank her for this piece of perfect.

~*~

Lunch was as enjoyable and embarrassing as expected.

Castiel had entertained the thought of not showing up, of just walking straight past the cafeteria until he fell off the earth and strolled into the sun, but then he thought about leaving Dean alone subjected to their friends’ good-natured teasing and found himself pushing open the door of the cafeteria a few minutes later than usual, almost impressed with himself for having shown up at all. Everyone was already sitting at the table with their food, and Charlie was wearing a smirk that meant that she had already spilled the beans. Castiel briefly, once again, considered turning around and walking into outer space. But, instead, he muffled the sound of his father’s voice in the back of his head and pressed onwards.

Charlie saw him first, probably because she was waiting for him. Her smirk curled like the Cheshire cat’s. He didn’t know why any of them glanced around to see who was approaching. It was clearly written all over her smug face.

Castiel sunk down into his normal seat, carefully stoic. He turned and met his sister’s eyes.

She wagged her eyebrows.

“I hate you all,” Castiel announced, heartfelt.

They all burst into laughter. Loud, gut-clutching laughter. Charlie giggled and leaned over to hug one of his arms close to her chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. Jo was smirking, avoiding his gaze, and Castiel would have thought that Ash was asleep on his end of the table, his head in his arms, until he saw the subtle shake of the other boy’s shoulders. Garth was giggling like a teenage girl, Anna was laughing like a burly old man with her voice echoing up to the ceiling. And then there was Dean.

He wasn’t laughing, but he was smiling. Castiel had seen many smiles of Dean’s, mostly only because he had been paying so much attention, but this was a smile he had only seen when they were alone, covered by the darkness of Charlie’s backyard or tucked together on the couch in the basement of Dean’s house. This was the smile that Dean reserved only for when he looked at Castiel, when all of his emotions were written on his face and it made his eyes light up lit fireworks in a midnight sky, and Castiel looked back at him and wondered how he wasn’t blind yet, wondered what he had ever done to deserve this expression from another person.

Castiel smiled back, feeling the rush of panic at wearing his heart on his sleeve but trying to overcome it the best as he could, and Dean’s shoe under the table nudged his. Castiel nudged it back, smiling just a little bit wider.

“Aw,” Anna cooed, ruining a bit of the moment. “They’re so cute. Like a fairytale.”

“One more word and I’ll get Balthazar to make you walk home,” Castiel told her in all seriousness, barely reacting when she struck out and punched him in the arm. For a moment, nervous, her gaze skidded up to his face to make sure it was okay, to make sure she hadn’t stepped over a line, the same way she had been for the last few years looking at Castiel’s bruises firsthand. There had been months where she had been afraid to touch him, let alone hit him.

Castiel never thought that receiving albeit loving physical assault would be a relief, but it was. He couldn’t help throwing his arm around her neck, messing up her hair as any older brother did. She immediately whined his disproval, shaking him off, scowling as she tried to finger-brush her hair back into submission.

Charlie was still gripping onto his right arm. She squeezed it, like Castiel could forget that he currently didn’t have any motor function in his dominant arm, and he looked over at her.

She looked grateful, and Castiel thought that he understood. She was grateful that he had sat down next to her in homeroom that first day, grateful that she had stood up to defend him. Grateful that they had walked to their math class together, that she caught him before he could sit somewhere else alone and brought him here. Grateful that she introduced him to her best friend, grateful that he and Dean had each other. And Castiel, admittedly, was also grateful. He was grateful for Charlie and for all of those things and more, but he would never know how to thank her for them. He wasn’t the best with people, and there wasn’t an easy way to sit someone down and tell them thank you for everything without someone being a little uncomfortable with the intensity. Castiel owed so much to Charlie, for being the rock that tripped him up and forced himself to pick himself up and dust off the disaster and take a better look around. Castiel owed Charlie for being herself and for being so welcoming and accepting. Castiel owed Charlie for wanting Dean and Castiel to be happy. He would never not be grateful for the redhead, and would never know how to thank her.

She winked at him, and he smiled back, and he hoped it was enough. He hoped she understood. By the way she ducked in and kissed him on the cheek, he liked to think that she did.

“It’s gonna be sickening, having it where we eat,” Charlie sighed with false disgust, scrunching up her nose. “You might have to sit outside.”

Dean rolled his eyes overdramatically before standing up, leaning across the table. Castiel only had time to smile before Dean’s hands were on his cheeks, cradling his face and tilting his chin up so their mouths slotted together into a chaste kiss over the lunch table, just enough that Charlie squealed in fake displeasure and Anna made a gagging noise and Jo started whooping loud enough that anyone in the building would have looked over and seen it if they hadn’t already spotted the display anyway. Dean pressed a kiss onto his forehead before he pulled away, grinning so that his eyes crinkled up in the corners, and Dean didn’t even seem to notice when Jo slugged him in the shoulder once he sat down, bitching about his “sappy shit making me wanna vomit”.

Castiel was thankful for every single thing that brought him to this point. He knew it showed in his smile, because half of the table gagged, but Anna reached out and squeezed his hand and Charlie ducked her head to hide her smile, and Castiel couldn’t look away from Dean’s eyes, thinking, _I’m home_.

~*~

Anna couldn’t even keep the news quiet for a week.

The Novak family didn’t have many nights where they ate dinner together, all of them running on different schedules, at least when it came to the elder members. But, in the middle of this week, Castiel and Anna had cooked enough pasta to feed an army and everyone was in attendance, crowding around a large wooden dining room table that had been the only piece of furniture to come with the house. It was getting its use now, with Castiel and his seven siblings occupying every chair, not a space to be spared.

Samandriel was spearing at the pasta in obvious boredom, squirming in his chair. Inias kept ducking his head to send text messages, and Hael and Gabriel were arguing over which brand of candy was superior. Anna was listening into Michael and Balthazar discuss European football, the only sport either of them cared about, with, for the first time since everything with their father had happened and since Balthazar came back, a smile on her face. Castiel was just sitting there with a smile on his face, looking around at his family that had braved so much, starting to feel a little bubble of confidence that they will make it through it all unscathed building in his ribs.

And that’s precisely the moment where Anna glanced over at Castiel and blurted out, “Castiel has a boyfriend.”

Castiel, immediately, groaned.

It wasn’t the _boy_ part of boyfriend that was the problem. The Novak family were all trained to be intuitive, and Castiel was pretty sure that all three of his elder brothers knew his orientation before Castiel ever really did. His sisters had confronted him about it around two years ago, smirking triumphantly like they have solved the Matrix. So, no. It wasn’t to do with that, or the way that Inias suddenly looked up with eyebrows raising or Samandriel stopped spearing his pasta and scrunched his nose the way he did when he didn’t understand something.

It was because of what happened afterward.

Gabriel burst out into such violent laughter that he actually tipped out of his chair, dragging an equally as giggly Balthazar with him, causing Castiel’s older brother to have to lean uncomfortably over the arm of his chair while grabbing at his sides. Hael and Anna high-fived over the table, smirking annoyingly. Castiel looked to Inias, suddenly a little worried, but his little brother just rolled his eyes so dramatically that Castiel was surprised he didn’t lose consciousness. Samandriel just looked around at them all, bemused and curious.

Michael immediately transformed into an overworked housewife.

“ _What_?” his eldest brother demanded, practically hysterical, and turned wide eyes to Castiel. “What’s his name? Where does he live? Why didn’t you tell us? Should we invite him over for dinner?”

“No!” Castiel yelled frantically at the last question at the same time Anna and Hael shrieked, “Yes!”

Michael looked between them, looking frazzled.

Castiel remembered that there had been a time when he was very young where he had fallen down the stairs, and Michael had just rolled his eyes. Now, his brother would have called the National Guard and the nation’s best surgeons.

“He doesn’t need to come by for dinner,” Castiel pleaded, shooting a scalding glare to Anna. Anyone else would have winced, but Anna just smirked at him, eyes dancing with joy at watching him squirm. Castiel wondered how easy it was to obtain itching powder. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“Our little boy is all grown up,” Balthazar pretended to sob, brushing a fake tear away. Michael was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Don’t tell me it was that pretty boy that came calling for you Friday night.”

Castiel made a choked noise that almost sounded like the confirmation it was. Balthazar laughed again, ducking his head. Gabriel grabbed onto the table and used it to pull himself up, only his face and shoulders visible. There were tear tracks on his face, and he couldn’t stop grinning. Castiel didn’t even have the energy to be insulted by the amount of amusement that his older brother was putting into his romantic life.

“Ooh, Cassie, don’t tell me it’s the courter from your friend’s house?” Gabriel giggled, eyes lighting up with glee. Castiel’s mouth tightened, and Gabriel smirked somehow even wider. “Ooh, it is! Good choice, little bro. That one is _gorgeous_. Even if he drives a car that looks like it’s compensating for something important.”

Castiel wanted to throw something at him, but the nearest thing was the penne pasta on his plate, and Castiel didn’t want to see Michael burst into tears or whatever his brother was about to dissolve into at the head of the table.

“He’s coming over for dinner,” Michael declared, his voice final, like a verdict. Castiel looked at him, horrified, but Michael was showing the kind of panic that people could probably feel waves of on the other side of the country. Michael looked around at all of them, eyes wide. “This time next week, you hear me? We—oh god, what are we gonna make? Chicken? Burgers? Is he a vegetarian? Please don’t tell me he’s a vegetarian, Castiel, I don’t know how to serve vegetarians. Castiel?”

Castiel was leaning his head back, eyes closed, and reciting any and all of the prayers he could remember. Anna, sitting at his side, snickered vengefully. Castiel straightened his neck, opened his eyes, and looked at his elder brother with a look of utter innocence.

“He’s not vegetarian,” Castiel replied slowly, “but Anna’s boyfriend is.”

Anna gasped, betrayed. Gabriel fell back to the floor. And Michael’s voice reached falsetto when he screeched, “ _Why does nobody tell me anything_?”

Revenge was sweet. And, as Castiel was learning as he fell back into his little bubble while Anna scrambled for excuses and Michael nearly had a nervous breakdown, so was happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Slang


	10. Of Heavenly Grace

Castiel waited until Friday to break the news to Dean.

“So, you know my brother Michael?” Castiel began calmly, fidgeting nervously as he sat next to Dean on Charlie’s couch as Jo and Anna played each other loudly in some colorful video game. Dean looked over at him and wound an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer as if they needed to in order to hear. Castiel leaned into the embrace anyway, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

“I actually don’t, since I’ve never met him,” Dean responded cheekily, smirking at him. “But I know _of_ him. Why?”

“He wants to meet you,” Castiel tried to tell him confidently, but his voice ended up trailing off uncertainly and his face was contorting into what would probably be concealed panic. Dean blinked at him for a moment, obviously taking in that tone and that face, before nodding slowly, raising his eyebrows.

“That should be a good thing,” Dean tried to joke, but Castiel just let out a whine of disagreement. “You told him about us?”

“No,” Castiel admitted. “I knew he would go overprotective mother hen so I was willing to wait it out for a few weeks. Anna, however, had full intentions to throw me under the bus.”

Dean laughed.

“But that’s okay,” Castiel said, grinning, “because I told Michael about her and Garth.”

Dean laughed even harder. “Will they both have to be there too?”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, and then started laughing despite himself. “They and the _whole family_ will be there.”

“This is better than expected,” Dean admitted, still laughing, as he squeezed Cas’s shoulders. “I really don’t think it’s gonna be that bad.”

“You’ve met two of my brothers and two of my sisters,” Castiel said. “What about them makes you think that this is going to be a breeze?”

“Hael’s sane,” Dean defended.

“Debatable. She just chooses her battles. And that will be a battle she will gleefully participate in, mark my words.”

“We’re doomed, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

Dean sighed for dramatic effect but leaned down and kissed Castiel’s face anyway, making him smile. Castiel burrowed a little deeper into Dean’s side, sitting as close as he could to the other young man as possible without fusing together.

It was that moment that Garth chose to come out of nowhere and sprawl on the extra space of the couch, grinning over at them apologetically when they turned their attention to him. “Sorry if I interrupted anything, friends.”

“You’re fine, Garth,” Castiel told him easily, smiling, but he had a feeling that Dean was behind him frowning unhappily. Castiel subtly dug one of his elbows into Dean’s side, making the other man wince. “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic!” Garth replied, beaming. “Hey, Dean, you’re going to dinner Wednesday too, right?”

“Yup,” Dean said. “Cas just told me.”

“It’s gonna be fun, huh?”

Castiel was sometimes mildly disturbed by Garth’s optimism, although he was sure that was one of the main things Anna liked about the guy. Garth always had a bright side. In their life, maybe that wasn’t so much of a bad influence. But still, Castiel couldn’t help but to look at the gangly smiling boy and sadly consider how his older brothers were going to see him as the easiest target to ever cross their threshold for Gabriel and Balthazar’s merciless teasing. For a moment, Castiel almost felt guilty that he had forced the other teen into the mess known as his family, and then remembered the way Anna had smirked when she spilled the beans, and he didn’t feel all that bad anymore.

“Yeah,” Dean told him, not sounding nearly as convinced but still smiling. “It should be pretty interesting. There are a lot of people to get to know.”

“Well, we already know Cas and Anna,” Garth pointed out brightly, grinning at Castiel. “And Hael, a little bit. And I know Inias.”

“You know Inias?” Castiel repeated incredulously, blinking. “How?”

“I volunteer for one of his classes at the middle school once our school gets out,” Garth responded. “I had his history teacher, and I help her with grading and answering questions for kids when they work in groups and things. I saw his name on a paper and asked him.”

That certainly would explain why Inias had laughed so hard on Wednesday when Anna tried to fumble through the general information about Garth and their newfound relationship. Castiel had just assumed that Inias, like the majority of Castiel’s siblings, just saw it hilarious to see one of his brothers or sisters being horrifically embarrassed.

“See?” Garth asked when none of them responded, still smiling like a freak. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Are you guys talking about the dinner?” Charlie called over from her spot on the floor.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“Oh, Garth, no,” Anna replied, turning around with a very grave expression. “This is going to be _horrible_.”

“Chin up, Anna,” he encouraged her, practically bouncing in his chair. “I’m sure you’re worried about nothing.”

Castiel and Anna exchanged a long-suffering look.

~*~

It was pretty horrible already, and Dean had only been through the door for three seconds.

“Run,” Castiel told him miserably the second the door was open, face grave. “Run while you can, Dean. Save yourself.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic, Cas,” Dean laughed, stepping over the threshold with a kiss to Castiel’s cheek. Castiel sighed, figuring that Dean would learn for himself sooner rather than later, while Dean paused at the front door to take off his leather jacket and his shoes. Dean tucked the shoes with the cluster of the family’s and hung up his coat on the hook Castiel nodded for him to take. Dean easily grinned, placing a hand at the small of his back.

“Garth hasn’t gotten here yet,” Castiel informed him. “Honestly, you still have plenty of time to get out of here. I can distract them. Gabriel might not catch your scent for another thirty seconds.”

“Too late,” Gabriel purred from the doorway, startling the both of them. Castiel turned to find his older brother leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a Twix bar hanging out of his mouth. Gabriel took a bite and reached up to catch the candy bar, chewing thoughtfully as he gazed at Dean.

Castiel figured that their father’s influence over their vigilance and ability to sneak around silently definitely was not something that would come in handy during meet-the-family situations.

“Dean, this is Gabriel, the second oldest,” Castiel introduced warily, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “You met before. Somewhat.”

“I remember,” Gabriel replied sinisterly, looking like he had a plan forming. Castiel did not trust him in the slightest. “You were the stud from that Eric Forman basement thing. Cassie talked about you the whole way home.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel snapped, feeling his face heating up. “I did not.”

“Okay, so maybe just Anna and I did,” Gabriel backtracked, laughing. “Cassie just sat there making that exact face at us.”

Gabriel pointed at Castiel while Dean laughed. Castiel might never forgive him.

“You’re not as funny as you believe yourself to be, Gabriel,” Castiel told him coldly, narrowing her eyes. “Leave us alone or I’ll tell Michael you’re eating before dinner.”

“Hey Michael!” Gabriel called out loudly for them, looking in the direction of the kitchen as he called Castiel’s bluff. “I’m already eating candy and the man of Castiel’s dreams is here.”

There was the sound of pots and pans crashing together. Dean laughed even harder.

“Gabe, Michael is hemorrhaging,” Balthazar announced as he walked into the hall casually, smirking and wearing a particularly deep v-neck. “What’s the proper medical procedure for that?”

“He’ll be fine,” the actual future doctor replied, shrugging. “Come to meet Castiel’s beau?”

“Where’s Anna?” Castiel asked loudly, as if she would make it better or save them when really it was her whole fault that they were here.

Balthazar waved a hand dismissively, probably thinking along the same lines. He zeroed in on Dean. “So you’re the hottie. Excellent. I’m Balthazar, younger than Gabe and older than Cassie, and I am easily the shadiest of all of us, so break his heart and you’ll wake up stranded on top of a mountain in an undisclosed location. Understood?”

“Balthazar wears monogrammed pajamas,” Castiel told Dean.

“No one asked you, Castiel,” Balth informed him cheerfully.

Of course, though, Balthazar was just the distraction to keep Castiel and Dean from bolting from the house, because Michael appeared almost immediately between one blink and the next. Castiel wasn’t a jumpy person or else he would have flinched like Dean did, but he at least didn’t laugh like Gabriel and Balthazar did. Michael didn’t even seem to notice any of their responses to his arrival, just standing there in his formal clothes, his body language making the whole hallway feel like a calculus test. Dean glanced at Castiel, finally looking alarmed.

“Dean, I take it,” Michael began, smiling as he held out a hand for Dean to shake. Dean hesitantly offered his own hand, looking like he half expected Michael to rip it off. “I’m Michael, the eldest. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“It’s great to meet you, too,” Dean told him, but it was starting to sound like there should be a question mark at the end of that sentence. Dean glanced at Castiel for reassurance, and Castiel responded by reaching out and taking Dean’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Michael’s gaze followed the movement, but he didn’t comment. Gabriel and Balthazar looked in between them, grinning in anticipation.

“So, Dean, what colleges are you thinking about going to?” Michael asked.

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand tight. Castiel hadn’t needed to be Dean’s boyfriend to know that Dean was anxious about the topic of college, that Dean was one of the kids that didn’t really know what they wanted to do. Castiel squeezed back.

“How about we save some topics for the dinner table?” Castiel offered weakly, plastering on a fake smile. Michael looked at him, reading that expression loud and clear like the total lawyer that he was, and he nodded in response. He turned back to Dean to smile at him again, this time a little apologetically.

“That is a great idea,” Michael agreed, still grinning like a psychopath. Castiel was starting to feel horrified on his brother’s behalf. Michael’s hands were actually shaking with his effort not to dart back into the kitchen and start fussing about everything that was more than likely already finished. “So, Dean, you’re from Lawrence?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied.

“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” Michael urged him, waving his hand dismissively. “I get enough of that at work. And Gabe and Balth will never let you live it down if you do.”

Gabriel and Balthazar giggled in response, looking like the crazed hyenas from _The_ _Lion King_. Castiel briefly considered strangling them, or putting himself up for adoption.

Michael opened his mouth to begin a new innocuous line of questions but was promptly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. The running footsteps from upstairs began immediately, and Castiel had never known how much he could mean it when he said, “Oh thank God, Garth is here.”

Dean choked out a laugh, moving closer to Castiel as he edged closer to the living room, ready for the chance where he could make their escape. Anna vaulted down the stairs, jumping the last three and landing heavily in her white dress and cowboy boots, shooting a distressed look at her four older brothers who were already accidentally gathered in the front room before scrambling for the door, pulling it open with a semblance of a brave smile.

Garth was already grinning before he saw Anna. In his hands was a dish covered with aluminum foil.

“Hello!” Garth greeted cheerfully, spotting the Novak brothers. He waved. “My mom and I made green bean casserole.”

“Good lord,” Gabriel whispered, eyes widening as his mouth turned upward into a smile, expression like God Himself had given him a most heavenly gift. Balthazar was already lifting his hand to cover up laughter.

Michael just stared at Garth’s grin, and then at the dish in his hands, and then at Garth again.

“I forgot you were vegetarian,” Michael whispered in horror.

“And that’s our cue to run,” Castiel murmured to Dean before tugging him through the nearest doorway, making the best escape possible, which ended up just being sitting on the couch with Hael, not talking as she watched a rerun of _Teen Wolf_.

It beat a Novak brother interrogation, or a Michael meltdown, any day.

~*~

“I love salad,” Garth told them brightly from his spot next to Anna, smiling as he speared lettuce onto his fork, seeming so entirely overjoyed with the simple setup that it was inhuman. Gabriel was still staring at him like he was a hand-wrapped gift just for him to torture. Balthazar was turning red in his attempt to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

Michael just looked like he would prefer to be burning alive.

“So what’re you thinking about going to school for, Garth?” Michael forced himself to ask, so outwardly distressed that even Sammy had noticed, sitting in his spot across from Inias and surveying their two guests like he didn’t trust them for a moment.

Garth immediately brightened at the question. Castiel figured that, at some point, Garth’s happiness would blind them all.

“I want to be a veterinarian,” Garth told him sincerely. “I love animals.”

“What’s your favorite animal?” Gabriel asked.

“Cats.”

“Ah,” Gabriel commented. “Pussies.”

Dean choked on the mashed potatoes, immediately ducking his head in an attempt to recover. Castiel reached up and covered his eyes with one hand. Hael was shaking with laughter on his other side.

“Garth wants to go to school locally and open up a business in Lawrence,” Anna informed them, immediately trying to deviate the conversation off of the track Gabriel was trying to steer them onto. Castiel peeked out from between his hands to find Garth was still smiling, practically unaffected. Gabriel’s expression was mighty controlled, but he was obviously up to absolutely no good. Michael looked ready to stab Gabriel with his fork.

“Does KU have a good veterinary program?” Castiel managed to keep them afloat.

“Well,” Garth began, and then he launched into a whole explanation about pre-veterinary programs and the steps to becoming a vet, as well as which schools he was thinking about for that post-graduation endeavor. Castiel listened patiently, him and Michael nodding along politely as Garth explained, Anna looking up at him with a fond smile. Inias met Castiel’s gaze across the table and looked like he wanted to die.

“And you, Dean?” Michael asked.

Dean cleared his throat anxiously. “I’m not sure yet,” Dean admitted, smiling in that charming manner he did when he just wanted to stop talking. “I like cars—I work at my uncle’s auto shop—so maybe like engineering or something. It’ll probably be easy to decide once I take a few courses.”

“That’s a good plan,” Michael agreed, nodding. “Castiel may also be going into college undecided.”

“Really?” Dean asked, turning with a curious expression to Castiel.

“I can’t decide between social work and behavioral psychology,” he confessed, squirming under his siblings’ scrutiny. Michael and Anna were more than likely the only ones who knew Castiel previously considered a career in the FBI but now, because of their father, he would more than likely be denied access, so his career in criminology was over before it began.

Dean looked interested, but Castiel knew he wouldn’t ask at the table. So he just nodded, collecting that information and storing it in his mind of later, and he took another bite of the mashed potatoes.

Castiel speared some green bean casserole.

“Dean, you do not look like a virgin,” Gabriel announced loudly and honestly. Dean choked again.

“Gabriel!” Michael exclaimed. “Think of the children!”

“Sam, cover your ears,” Gabriel instructed loosely, but Samandriel was so obviously bored that he didn’t even appear to be listening, and was instead staring down at his plate wistfully as he used his fork to poke repeatedly at all of the meal choices. “And Inias is in my middle school, he’s drawn enough penises to be able to hear this.”

“I was going to excuse myself and leave the table a few minutes ago,” Inias informed them, grinning, “but now I am so glad I stayed.”

Dean, meanwhile, just kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish on display.

“Dean,” Balthazar called from the opposite head of the table as Michael, snapping his fingers. “This is very important.”

“No it’s not,” Castiel deadpanned.

“I’m only like forty percent sure that Cassie is a virgin,” Gabriel informed Dean gravely.

“Are you joking?” Anna demanded. “Have you seen the way he dresses? There’s no _way_ he’s a virgin.”

“Are you sexually active?” Michael demanded to Castiel frenziedly, eyes wide and horrified.

“Why are we talking about this?” Castiel demanded, despairingly. He looked at Dean, who looked torn between laughing and running away, and then he looked at Gabriel and Anna, who looked like they were pleased with themselves, to Michael. “We do not need to be talking about this at the _dinner table_.”

“Oh my god,” Hael said. “You’ve _totally_ done the do.”

“New. Topic,” Castiel ground out through his teeth, glaring around at his siblings.

For a brief, wonderful moment, there was a silent pause. And then Inias muttered, “Garth is totally a virgin.”

~*~

“You were right,” Dean told him solemnly once they were finally alone on the porch after dinner, Dean having made his excuses to leave and dragged Castiel out the door the moment he was clear. Dean let out a long breath, leaning against the stair railing. “I was not prepared for that.”

“I told you so,” Castiel murmured, sighing. “I really did mean it when I told you to run.”

“I know that now,” Dean replied, and then smiled as he reached out and pulled Castiel to his chest. “Your family is crazy. Like, all of them, they’re crazy. Even the little one.”

After dinner, Samandriel had stood in front of Dean and Garth with a frown, looking between them for a moment, before he had resolutely declared, “The taller one is weird,” before he walked away and headed upstairs for bed. Garth had looked like he had been stabbed in the heart before Anna had to remind him that Samandriel is eight and still somewhat acting out from the move.

“I did warn you,” Castiel reminded him again.

“You did,” Dean said, and then leaned down and kissed him.

There was the sound of hammering on the windows, shocking them apart. They turned to find Gabriel and Balthazar standing at the nearest living room window, staring out and watching them with stern expressions. They both shook their heads at them like they didn’t approve. Castiel flipped them off, which only caused them to retreat in hysterical laughter.

“I’m really sorry about them,” Castiel murmured, feeling a healthy dose of embarrassment. Dean just laughed and continued to hold him close, his hands running up and down his back.

“They weren’t that bad,” Dean tried to tell him, and Castiel thought it was nice of him to try to paint his family in a less-than-crazy light. “Your brothers might’ve been distant the last few years, but they’re really trying to be better about it. If that means completely torturing you, then, well . . . It could’ve been worse.”

“Never say that when Gabriel is involved,” Castiel advised him, and then pressed up to kiss Dean a little harder, grateful that Dean always knew what to say even if he didn’t think that he did. Castiel leaned his forehead against Dean’s shirt over his heart for a minute before stepping away, smiling. “It’s getting late. Sam’s gonna probably want to talk to you about how it went.”

“Sam should be a therapist for how much he wants to talk about my emotions,” Dean replied, rolling his eyes. He let his hands drop off of Castiel’s arms, reaching into his pockets for the key to the Impala parked at the curb. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah,” Castiel said, trying not to smile too much, trying not to be too weird. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas,” Dean murmured, leaving him with one last smile before he turned and walked off of the porch. Castiel watched him go until Dean unlocked the driver’s side door and paused, looking back, catching Castiel’s gaze immediately. He winked before sinking into the car and turning the engine, pulling away.

Still, Castiel watched him until he couldn’t see the Impala anymore. And it was only then that he had the courage to go back into his house to confront his family.

Gabriel and Balthazar were already in the front room, and they were already laughing.

“Cassie and Dean-o, sitting in a tree,” Gabriel giggled loudly. “Making out like OMG!”

“I don’t know if I like him,” Balthazar declared, crossing his arms with a deep frown. “He looks like he rides motorcycles and breaks heart.”

“He actually LARPs,” Anna informed them solemnly from the foot of the stairs, where she was now standing, her arms also crossed like she was locking down for impact. And, if Castiel had properly read Gabriel and Balthazar’s faces all throughout dinner, she was about to get ragged on about ten times more than Castiel.

“Hmm,” Balthazar replied, still not looking convinced.

“I liked him,” Michael announced as he walked in from the kitchen. “He was nice and polite and he obviously really cares about Castiel. That’s all that matters, really.”

“Aw,” Gabriel replied sarcastically. “Okay, fine, he was alright. He was better than the vegetarian veterinarian.”

Anna sighed.

“Whatever happened to Dean’s parents?” Michael caught Castiel off-guard by asking, his face concerned but curious. “He mentioned he lived with his uncle.”

“His mom died when he was four, and his dad died when he was ten,” Castiel explained as little as possible. “Dean and Sam were sent to live with their dad’s best friend, Bobby. He was apparently named their guardian in their dad’s will or something.”

“His last name is Winchester?” Michael asked, the funniest look on his face.

Castiel stared at him, heart sinking. Michael knew. Castiel didn’t know how, but his elder brother knew. He figured he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was, just enough. Castiel looked away, pretending to act casual, but he felt oddly nervous.

If Michael could figure it out, then any of his siblings could. Castiel didn’t like the idea of that.

“Yeah, it is,” Castiel said, and then smiled tiredly. “I think I’m going to go get ready for bed. It’s been a long night, and there’s school in the morning.”

“Right,” Michael said, knowing that Castiel knew, and he smiled. “Goodnight, Castiel. Thank you for letting us meet Dean.”

“Night,” Castiel told them as he passed them by, heading up the stairs. Anna shot him a curious look as he passed by but Castiel didn’t acknowledge her, just kept climbing to the second floor, where he was barely clear of the top stairs before Gabriel was sighing.

“Anna?” he asked. “Reconsider.”

“You’re so mean,” she mumbled before her footsteps led to the kitchen, and the sound of their brothers’ footsteps pursued her, not letting her get off that easily. Castiel paused there at the top of the stairs, taking a deep breath.

“Castiel?”

Castiel looked up. Inias was hovering outside of his and Samandriel’s room, looking hesitant. Castiel smiled.

“Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Inias said, closing the door behind him as he stepped in the hall, obviously not wanting to wake their little brother. He chewed nervously on his lip for a moment, looking at Castiel hesitantly, before he spoke again. “I like him. That guy. Dean. I can tell you like him, and he likes you. I’m—yeah. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured, feeling like his chest would burst, and he cleared the space in between him and his little brother to pull him into a tight hug. Inias didn’t fully relax, but he did reach up and pat Castiel on the back. Castiel let him pull away, squeezing his shoulder as he did. “Goodnight, Inias.”

“Night,” Inias murmured before retreating back into his bedroom, closing the door. Castiel smiled behind him, shaking his head fondly as he opened his own door, heading up the stairs.

Castiel had the strangest, craziest family, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Slang


	11. Illumine

“Where the hell did this cold come from?” Jo whined one of the mornings they huddled up beside each other on the edge of the parking lot, waiting for the rest of their friends to appear. “It definitely wasn’t this cold last week.”

“I think that’s how weather works, Jo,” Garth told her innocently, but still grimaced when she turned to glare at him. Anna huddled against Garth’s side, a pink hat shoved down around her ears, practically into her eyes, and a white scarf was wrapped around her neck. Anna never did take well to the cold, and Castiel didn’t feel like he was doing much better, but he was less prepared—all he had was a hand-me-down of Michael’s that Castiel had claimed as his when Michael abandoned it before college and a sweater over his button-up. Castiel huddled with Garth, Jo, Anna, and Ash under the cover of a half-barren tree, all of them shivering as they waited for the arrival of Charlie and the Winchesters.

“I always hated the cold,” Anna muttered, shuddering as another breeze ripped through their huddle. Garth pulled her a little closer, looking upset, like he should be able to control the weather. “It’s even worse in Illinois. The Midwest was the _worst_.”

“I looked at a school in Michigan,” Ash explained, not always once to speak but every once in a while offering his two cents. He shuddered. “Too much snow and cold, man. It can’t be good for your mind place.”

Castiel was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers. He shivered.

“See?” Ash said. “Cas gets it.”

“I don’t,” Castiel replied, laughing. “I’m just cold.”

“Dean should be here soon to warm the cockles of your heart,” Anna tried to soothe him, smirking when he reached out and shoved her playfully.

It had been just over a week since the semi-disaster that was the meet-the-Novaks dinner where, despite all odds, both halves of the couples under scrutiny remained in the relationship. Dean hadn’t even been able to wait until their Friday night get-together to tell the group about the dinner, spilling the beans about the craziness of the Novaks over lunch the next day. Castiel had rarely seen a person laugh so hard that they turned bright red, but Charlie managed it, nearly choking on air more than once when Dean informed their friends that one of the table discussion topics had been who is and is not a virgin.

Anna confessed that her favorite part had been Michael frantically trying to spare the children’s ears. Castiel confessed that his favorite part was absolutely none of it, because he was not a masochist.

“I’m not a masochist,” Anna had argued back, stabbing a carrot stick dipped in ranch at him. “I just have a good sense of humor.”

“Our ideas of humor differ,” Castiel had deadpanned, frowning.

“Aw, don’t pout, Cas,” Dean had urged him, poking his cheek. “I’m sure you at least had a little fun.”

Castiel had just stared at him evenly and emotionlessly for a few minutes but, eventually, Dean and Anna had gotten him to admit that he had enjoyed himself a little bit. They decided not to push their luck and had accepted that as good enough, nodding to each other like they had both achieved a personal victory.

Castiel hadn’t figured himself to being that much of a sourpuss.

But time, as it always done, began to pass.

Halloween passed the next Monday in a blur of a monster movie marathon and party in Charlie’s basement, complete with bobbing for apples and pinning the spikes on Frankenstein’s monster—who Charlie and Castiel alike took to correcting absolutely anyone willing to just call the creature by Frankenstein. Castiel and Dean hadn’t dressed up, both of them never having seen much of the spirit of Halloween, more than likely due to their traumatic childhoods, but Anna still had managed to dress up as Buffy the Vampire Slayer just as she had wanted to since she was twelve, and she was accompanied to the party by Garth as the goofiest-looking Spike to ever grace the planet. Charlie had been a female Captain America while Ash had come in his normal getup (while claiming to be a roadie), but Jo had shown up in a full-scale sexy kitten outfit. Dean and Ash hadn’t been able to look her in the eye once the entire night, but Charlie had hooted and hollered and started throwing pocket change at Jo every time she walked by, which earned her a slug to the arm.

They ended up eating so much candy that Castiel had barely been able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. He had never known a sugar crash to feel so much like the stomach flu mixed with a hangover, but he had somehow obtained it. He and Dean had commiserated over the phone for at least half an hour, cursing Charlie’s ability to obtain Sam’s Club portions of anything delicious.

Castiel hadn’t properly celebrated Halloween in years. Most of his years, he was meant to be at their father’s church, where they ran their own trick or treating among the pews and around the surrounding grounds, where they had their own entertainment stands with darts for prizes and things like that. Castiel had never realized that life could be this interesting when he wasn’t either dominated by their father, or his religion.

November came with a firm chill that didn’t seem about to let up anytime soon, and it was extra bitter this morning. Castiel was accustomed to cold temperatures, having lived nowhere but Pontiac his entire life, but that didn’t mean that each winter didn’t come as a surprise like a temperature battering ram. Castiel was beginning to be not so fond of their friend group’s habit of standing outside waiting for the group’s cars to come rolling in. He figured there must be someplace they could meet up while also being inside.

Charlie’s yellow VW Beatle had just managed to slide into the space she had hacked herself into close to the building when Anna ducked closer to Castiel, leaning in close to his ear before murmuring, “Are people staring at us extra hard, or am I just imagining things?”

Castiel had hoped that _he_ had been the one hallucinating. He pulled away, holding his sister’s gaze for a moment, before he glanced over at a small pack of students walking past. Three out of four of their gazes snapped away nervously. One kept staring, eyes wide, as they continued to walk, murmuring amongst themselves.

Castiel really didn’t like the looks of that.

It wasn’t until Charlie made it to the group, wrapped in a rainbow scarf with matching hat and staring at Anna and Castiel with wide eyes, like she was surprised to see them, that they found out why.

“Oh,” she said, sounding dumbfounded. “I didn’t think you two would be here.”

“Does it have to do with the one-sided staring contests?” Anna demanded, glancing around. Castiel started to feel that same paranoia, a creeping feeling on the back of his neck. He reached up to rub at it like it might be an insect, or anything other than just a figment of his own paranoid imagination.

“Um,” Charlie replied, biting her lip, before she reached into her backpack and pulled out her tablet, tapping at it for a few moments before thrusting it at Castiel, looking worried. Castiel reached out and took it slowly, the cold biting harshly at his exposed fingers.

Castiel read the first line, and his stomach dropped.

“Anna,” Castiel said nervously, turning to look at her, but she was already behind him, reading over his shoulder. She took in the headline and then snapped her eyes to him, looking just as anxious as he felt.

“Should we call Balthazar, or Michael?” she asked, not liking it as much as Castiel did. Castiel shook his head slowly, the optimism that he had somehow managed to gather over the last few days dropping like a lead weight in his stomach.

“I don’t know what good that would do,” Castiel told her, but felt the phone in his pocket vibrate. Anna’s hand moved to hears as well, confirming his suspicions. “I think it might be best to wait it out.”

“What?” Jo asked, looking to Charlie and Castiel and Anna, and then back again. She looked cautious. “Did something bad happen?”

“Always,” Castiel grated, angry and tired, eyes going back to the headline one more time.

_Emmanuel Novak Confesses to Dozen More Murders._

“He’s lowering his number,” Castiel murmured.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Anna asked nervously, chewing on her lip. Garth could’ve probably seen the screen if he tried but he didn’t, instead watching Anna’s face exclusively, minding their privacy but making sure she was okay. And for a goofy, quirky guy, Castiel couldn’t help but to appreciate him for that, even if he was dating his little sister. When Castiel didn’t respond, Anna continued softly, “Maybe he’s running out.”

Castiel scrolled down and pointed at the years. “Gabriel wasn’t even born yet. He’s just getting started.”

Her face fell.

Castiel pulled out his phone, glancing at Charlie as he did, but she just looked like she was waiting for his call, holding her car keys like she was willing to whisk the two away in a moment’s notice. Castiel couldn’t have appreciated her friendship more in that moment, because Charlie had been nothing more than welcoming and giving and kind to a family that didn’t think they deserved those things. And, even if they didn’t deserve it, it was nice to know that there was the chance that Charlie would stick to their side, no matter what.

If Castiel knew his father at all, this wasn’t an announcement because he felt like it.

This meant something.

“What day is it?” Castiel demanded.

“November second,” Charlie replied immediately. Castiel cursed, handing her the tablet back shakily, not wanting to chance holding onto it. She hugged it to her chest, watching him nervously.

“One month,” Anna murmured, glancing at him. Her expression was pained.

Castiel checked his phone. There was a message from Michael, and one from Balthazar. He clicked on the one from Michael first.

_Just saw the papers. If there’s trouble, go to the office and call me. I will pick you up. Be careful._

Balthazar’s just read, _I can turn around now if you need me._

“Sixty-eight,” Castiel muttered, and then laughed sourly, reaching up and rubbing his face. “Christ. Sixty-eight.”

“Oh my god,” Jo whispered as she realized, turning wide eyes to Charlie. “Is this about what I think it’s about?”

Charlie nodded. Jo grimaced.

“I’m not leaving,” Anna announced mostly to Castiel but partly to their friend group, screwing her expression into a self-taught confidence that Castiel had only been able to manage with cold emotionlessness. “You can leave if you want, but I’m sick of this dictating our lives.”

“If that is what you want,” Castiel said slowly, suddenly feeling much more aware of the students watching them as they entered the school, “then I will not attempt to convince you otherwise.”

Anna waited, but Castiel had nothing more to say, nothing more to offer her. He felt the sense of security that had been gathering around them like a dome begin to shatter, breaking down in a way he knew it would have in the upcoming days anyway, but this was a different impact than he had been expecting, even as the days drew nearer and nearer to his father’s preliminary hearing. One month. Of course the bastard would start to shatter everything at the month mark, making sure to the shake the cages of the children he knew were out there somewhere.

Castiel had never hated the man so much in his entire life. He crushed his eyes shut, curling his freezing fingers into as tight a fist as he could. He was so far away from reality that he barely even registered it when Dean walked up to the group, cheerful and obvious, before Castiel opened his eyes and looked straight at him. And then Dean stopped, staring at him, before glancing around at the others.

“I missed something, didn’t I?” he asked nervously, looking at Castiel.

Castiel didn’t even have the energy to answer him.

~*~

He didn’t even make it into the gym. He hadn’t even thought ahead this far, hadn’t taken in all the details of what would entail his day, but it wasn’t until he was walking up to the gym doors on the outskirt of the school that they made their move, knowing it would be the perfect chance.

He should have never forgotten the predators that would know the perfect time to strike.

Castiel didn’t see them coming until he heard the leaves crunching behind him, and then the familiar cocky voice called, “How’s your day been, Novak?”

Castiel stopped walking, approximately five steps to the door, to solace, and slowly turned around, all of the residual anger and fear that had been churning in his stomach rising to the surface. Zachariah stood smirking with his two brainless laggies standing around him, like puppets he controlled on strings. Castiel scanned over all of them, measuring their threat. They did not look like they were stopping him here, on school grounds, to have a friendly chat.

Coincidentally, Castiel wasn’t feeling all that friendly himself.

“It’s been a little dismal, if you could imagine,” Castiel supplied, his schoolbag falling from one shoulder. Zachariah’s eyes followed the motion, his thin lips pulling up in a smirk. Students who were just passing by before began to pause, watching the exchange because it must have been impossible not to notice something was about to jump off. Castiel leveled his gaze on Zachariah, unblinking. “What do you want?”

Zachariah shrugged innocently. Castiel wasn’t in the mood to play games.

“See you in class, then,” Castiel said, and started to turn around.

“Psycho,” he heard one of them cough.

And his patience ran out.

“What did you just say to me?” he demanded, turning around as his backpack hit the ground hard, his hands curling into tight fists. Zachariah grinned wide, overjoyed at getting a rise out of him, and took a step closer to him. Castiel didn’t step away.

“You’re fucking psychotic, aren’t you?” Zachariah taunted, pretending to sound sympathetic. “You’re a sociopath, right? You walk around mimicking people and acting like you’re a regular guy, but you’re a fucking freak of nature, Novak. I don’t think you know how to be human. You definitely don’t act like one.”

“Nobody asked you,” Castiel replied harshly, coldly, but something in the back of his mind flipped a switch. He didn’t know how Zachariah had so easily found his weakness, like it was spelled out in neon colors on Castiel’s back, but this one hit too close to home. He didn’t know how many times in the two-year hell with his father that he wondered the exact thing about himself that Zachariah was accusing of him. Castiel had spent every waking moment wondering if this was the way normal people were, if they had to try so hard. He started to wonder if he was more like his father than he had realized, because he didn’t think it was normal at all.

And Zachariah somehow knew to play that card, somehow knew it would be what would rock the boat the worst. Castiel was faintly aware of the crowd on the edge of his vision, aware that they were murmuring and probably drawing attention, but he didn’t care. He could barely breathe through the hateful red haze settling into his brain, could barely think past the residual rage spurned by his father, this bully, himself, all about him not being human enough. For being too broken to be able to feel the way normal people do.

Zachariah knew it was working. Of course he did. He was just like Castiel’s father must have been, when he got his victims where he wanted. Arrogant. Pleased. Merciless.

Castiel could be that, too. If he wanted.

“I don’t think you want to start this,” Castiel managed to a warning through his clamped jaw, trying to save face the best he could, but Zachariah didn’t want to walk back from this point; he took one more step closer, ready to dive right in.

“You’re a robot, Novak,” Zachariah muttered, raising his eyebrows. “Can’t imagine what Winchester will do once he realizes just how unstable you are. Or, maybe, he’s your family’s easiest victim. Your dad sure seems keen on upping his numbers. He must have started right around your age, right?”

“Fuck you,” Castiel growled on reflex. Zachariah’s eyes flashed, because Castiel had just given him the easiest possible bait. Zachariah had poked, and Castiel had showed exactly what made him flinch.

“Sooner or later, Winchester’s gonna realize you’re a psychopath, just like your old man,” Zachariah told him, so softly that only they could hear it, that smirk on his face curling upwards because this was where the game began. Castiel felt the rush in his veins because he knew what this was, too. “And when he does, he’s gonna leave you, because freaks like you? They’re not capable of anything but your dad’s favorite hobby.”

“Stop,” Castiel hissed through his teeth.

“Do it, Novak,” Zachariah purred. “Hit me. I know you want to. Make your daddy proud.”

“No.”

Zachariah sighed. “Alright then.”

And then he slugged Castiel hard in the face.

Castiel didn’t hit the ground, but he stumbled two steps, hissing hard through his teeth to keep in a groan. The crowd was making noise now, the whole atmosphere of this confrontation shifting, and Castiel knew now that intervention was on its way, and he didn’t waste time, didn’t hesitate or fold the way he did the time in the alleyway. Zachariah threw another punch, in too deep to stop now, but Castiel knew what to expect, and he knew how to counter. He grabbed Zachariah’s arm and twisted it, using his leverage to shove him stumbling forward and face-first hard into the façade of the gymnasium, the voices of the crowd rising in alarm. Castiel paid them no mind, pressing Zachariah hard into the wall, allowing him no way to escape.

“Listen to me now, Zachariah, and listen to me well,” Castiel muttered into the other boy’s ear, holding onto him tight enough to bruise when Zachariah kept trying to get out from his grip. “I know what you want from me, and you’re not going to get it, no matter how hard you try. Do you understand that? You’re not going to make me into a negative headline. You will _not_ put a black mark on my future all because of a fucking idiotic high school _bully_ who thinks it’s funny to hurt people. Congratulations on being a heartless lowlife. But listen to me when I say this—I have been a victim much longer than you have been a bullying brat. I have been the one taking the hits longer than you’ve been handing them out, so think again when you believe I would _ever_ want to inflict that same torment on other people. I may be a little sociopathic, even a little psychopathic at times, but I’m a better person than you are, Zachariah. No wonder you hate me so much.”

And then hands were on Castiel, multiple pairs of them shaking his grip free and pulling him away from Zachariah forcefully, and others were grabbing onto Zachariah, and Castiel didn’t put up a fight. He didn’t struggle as the adults pulled him away from the scene, his kind history teacher leaning down and grabbing his backpack for him before starting after them, and Castiel just let the hands guide him to the front office, hands shaking, eye swelling.

As they dragged him away, Castiel knew this wasn’t all a bad thing. He hadn’t exactly been a hero in this whole exchange, but he had stood up for himself. He had done what was ultimately the right thing to do, and he faced off with Zachariah without the violence the other boy had obviously wanted him to use, not giving him the satisfaction. Castiel was going to get in trouble for this but, even as he was shoved into a chair outside of the principal’s office by his grumbling math teacher, Castiel couldn’t help but to feel like he had finally been able to finally help himself with something, rather than trying to be selfless all the time. And it wasn’t all that bad of a feeling to finally feel safe.

~*~

“Suspended,” Michael sighed like, instead, he was saying _arrested for_ _indecent exposure_ or something equally as embarrassing to have to explain to family members. “Lucky for you, I talked that ornery principal of yours down to two days, but I couldn’t get it any lower than that. I expect you to stay caught up on all work. Anna can bring it home for you.”

Castiel nodded, half-blinded by the ice pack he was pressing against his left eye, and he must have looked a bit of a pathetic sight because Michael plastered on the best smile he could and sat down on the chair next to Castiel’s in the nurse’s office.

“You did a good thing, Castiel,” Michael told him, but he still looked like he needed to go into hibernation to catch up with all the sleep he hasn’t had the last half year. “Manhandling the heathen might not have been the smart move, but you did the noble one. I will not fault you that.”

“Sorry about the timing,” Castiel mumbled.

Michael waved him away, but mentioning the article made worry lines appear around his eyes.

“Are you pulling Anna and Hael out of school for the day?”

“Yes, as I probably should have done this morning anyway,” Michael said solidly, checking his watch. “I’m waiting for another few minutes into your lunch hour, when I will know they’re in the cafeteria.”

“You’re just going to walk in?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. Castiel laughed, wincing when his smile made the bruise around his eye throb painfully.

“Right,” Castiel replied. “Don’t question your authority.”

Michael laughed. “Something like that. But we’re gonna have a long talk about this later, you hear me?”

Castiel nodded.

“And you’re grounded. No buts,” he added when Castiel opened his mouth, remaining eye wide. “You’re still suspended, Castiel, and that’s not a good thing. At least you’re not expelled, like the heathen. I’m wishing the school would allow me to put another police report in.”

“You’re worrying too much about it.”

“We’ll talk about worrying too much when Anna and Hael have to see me walk into the cafeteria, where they will more than likely be worried about why you are missing to begin with,” Michael replied, getting to his feet. “But I have one more question to ask you before they get here.”

Castiel raised his free eyebrow, the other a little too numb from the ice. Michael paused, studying Castiel’s face closely for a moment, before he narrowed his eyes, like Castiel always managed to elude him.

“You would’ve been within your rights to hit him back,” Michael began, his gaze plain scrutiny. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I refuse to make other people the victim,” Castiel answered honestly, solemnly. “Even if they deserve it.”

Michael looked like he had at least a hundred more questions, a hundred more attempts to try to understand Castiel the way he had been trying to since the fateful night Castiel called him back to Pontiac, but he didn’t push, just nodded. Michael glanced over to the door before turning back to Castiel slowly, like he still didn’t know the words but he damn well was going to try for something.

“I’m proud of you,” Michael told him, and it wasn’t what Castiel was expecting him to say. Castiel blinked at him, astonished, and Michael smiled, like he was embarrassed that Castiel would be so surprised. “I really am. You showed a lot of strength and maturity back there. You’ve become an amazing man, Castiel, and you did it all on your own. Be proud of that too.”

Castiel was speechless.

“I’ll be right back,” Michael said, and then took his leave.

Castiel was too floored by Michael’s unexpected praise, so different from Zachariah’s admonishments that packed a punch straight into Castiel’s ribs, that he was too gratified for a minute to remember how angry his sisters would be that he had been vaguely missing for about half of the day without contacting them to let them know why.

He forgot entirely about their sisterly wrath until Anna and Hael appeared in the doorway.

“Suspended?” Anna growled out, eyes narrowing. Hael crossed her arms over her chest, frowning, as Michael grinned in amusement from behind them.

“Uh,” Castiel said. “You should see the other guy?”

Anna blinked, and then said, “You’re a moron, Castiel Novak. Surrender the ice pack and let’s get you off of school grounds, you absolute rule-breaking criminal.”

“Okay,” Castiel told her, smiling thankfully, as he pealed the ice pack from his eye.

Hael gagged. “Ew, no, never mind, keep that on.”

Castiel glared one-eyed at his sisters as they burst into identical laughter, Michael smirking with amusement he would deny from behind them. Castiel shook his head before reaching out and grabbing his backpack. “Are we ready to go?”

“Sure,” Michael said, still sounding like he was choking back laughter. “Everybody got everything?”

“Not yet,” Anna said moments before pulling out a phone and snapping a picture of Castiel before he could prepare, gazing at the finished product and nodding before tapping at her phone more, definitely sending it to their entire friend group with some horrible caption. “Okay, now I am.”

Castiel groaned like a petulant child, but he couldn’t help but to grin.

He definitely didn’t feel like a robot when he laughed at Hael and Anna singing a ridiculous song on the radio at the top of their lungs on the drive home.

He definitely didn’t feel like a robot when he pouted for an hour because Gabriel and Balthazar came home early with a party hat they forced on his head and presented him a cake that read “Congrats on the suspension!” in swirling cursive.

He definitely didn’t feel like a robot when Sammy curled into his side when it got close to his bedtime, rubbing his eyes with his fists and yawning every couple of minutes.

Maybe Zachariah was a little right—Castiel didn’t know how to be normal. He always either had a family centered around the church at an obsessive level or a family cowering from the hit of a serial killer father. He didn’t get the level of social interaction as he might have wanted to because he preferred the presence and security of his family. Maybe he did act like a computer on some days, just because his emotions were either too much or not enough. Maybe there were some moments where Castiel mimicked just to keep his head above water.

But that didn’t make him any less of a human being. That didn’t make him any less _real_.

Sitting around the living room with a decimated cake and all of his siblings nodding off in chairs or against each other, this was _real_. His _family_ was real. His friends, who had been sending him congratulations and teasing messages all day, were _real_. His boyfriend, who had shown up on his doorstep twenty minutes after school let out with his homework and a lingering kiss, was _real_. Castiel was a real human being and not a robot, because he doubted a robot could ever love someone so much as Castiel loved all of the amazing people around him who supported him no matter what.

And damn to anyone who thought differently. 


	12. With Ever-Burning Sulfur

Castiel ran the entire way to Dean’s house after school ended the next day. He had no idea how he was going to get away with it—Michael had taken the grounding seriously, and had called the house phone at random points during the day with short, unpredictable periods of time in between to make sure Castiel was still there, which both impressed Castiel as much as it offended him. Therefore, there was little to no chance that Castiel was going to actually get away with this, and he expected the stress-calls to start coming in on his cell phone at any minute. But he couldn’t just brush this under the rug with a phone call, or even making Dean go all the way out to his house just for an apology he knew he would wave away.

Castiel was the worst boyfriend ever.

November second. He should have recognized the significance immediately, because Dean had even mentioned it before. He should have noticed that it wasn’t normal of Sam and Dean to be as late to school as they had been yesterday, and that it had been because they were visiting a grave. Mary Winchester had died on November second. Castiel had been too worried about the deaths on his father’s hands to remember the death that still resonated in Dean like a break in the sound barrier.

Castiel was always so, so selfish.

And that was how he ended up there—standing on the Winchester’s porch, a little sweaty but a lot more cold, the chill running through the hills with a frozen wind, shaking with nerves and guilt as he reached up and knocked on the door, shielding his one and a half usable eyes from the glaring sun, wishing the heat was strong enough to bite into his skin.

It struck him about a second too late to wonder if the Winchesters had even made it home yet and being entirely prepared to wait until they did before the door was opening and Dean was standing on the other side of the threshold, blinking in confusion at Castiel, eyes wide.

“Cas?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure. “What’re you—?”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel blurted out.

Dean paused, taken aback. “About what?” he demanded after a minute, frowning. Dean seemed to realize something about this situation didn’t click right, because he looked Castiel up and down, eyebrows soaring. “Wait a second, did you _run_ here?”

Castiel ignored that last part. He glanced around, wondering if he wanted to do this on the steps, and then decided that he would rather this didn’t happen in any semblance of public. “Can I come in?” he asked nervously. “I—We need to talk.”

Dean’s expression suddenly dropped off to nothing, back to that controlled mask that Castiel hadn’t seen since the early days, which felt so long ago even if it was only a handful of months. Dean swallowed hard, looking like he was steeling himself for something, before he stepped back, giving Castiel room to enter the house. Castiel shuffled in nervously, suddenly way too aware of his hands.

Castiel looked up finally. Dean wasn’t looking at him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes on his feet. Castiel felt his stomach drop. Even if Dean wasn’t _mad_ at him for missing the significance of yesterday, he was definitely going to be upset. Castiel didn’t know which one he would prefer. The possibility of either felt like it would rip him apart.

Castiel half expected Dean to lead him somewhere else, like to the basement, but Dean didn’t make a move to leave the front entry. Castiel stood a few feet away from him, feeling like he was falling out of Dean’s orbit already, just because the other boy wouldn’t look at him. Castiel shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he could somehow box himself up into something small and disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said again into the silence, not knowing what else to say. Dean still didn’t quite look at him as much as he looked over his head. Castiel was suddenly having a difficult time swallowing. He felt like he was choking. “I just—I didn’t know how—Dean—”

“Whatever is wrong, we can fix it,” Dean interrupted him, voice small. His eyes flicked from Castiel’s and away, his arms tightening around his chest. It was then that Castiel realized that Dean’s hands were shaking. “If it’s something I did, or maybe something I _said_ , I—”

“Wait,” Castiel said, never liking to interrupt people but not thinking he could handle another second of the self-deprecation in Dean’s voice, taking a small step forward. Dean was too still, like he was forcing his limbs to stay put. Castiel wanted to reach out but wouldn’t have been able to handle the sting if Dean would have flinched away. “Dean, did you think I came here to break up with you?”

Dean flinched anyway. Castiel stumbled across the space in between them, reaching up and putting his hands on Dean’s neck, his cheek. Dean’s pulse jumped under Castiel’s touch, his eyes glancing down at his hands, at Castiel’s closeness in general, surprised.

“Dean, no,” Castiel said, completely ignoring everything he had come here to say in order to shift forward, not looking away from Dean’s eyes even to blink. “God, Dean, _no_ , that’s not what’s happening here, no. Absolutely not. I swear.”

It took another few seconds of hanging onto Dean in silence before he shifted in Castiel’s hold, freeing his arms from between them to wind them tightly around Castiel’s waist. Castiel pressed a kiss to the underside of Dean’s jaw in response, burying his head into his boyfriend’s collarbone.

Dean pulled back just far enough to give him a stern look.

“Don’t _ever_ say ‘we need to talk’ unless it’s serious, dude, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Dean chided him seriously, narrowing his eyes. “That’s for breakups and other bad shit, man. _Jesus_.”

“Sorry,” Castiel apologized for what felt like the thousandth time in the last ten minutes, grimacing. “But we _do_ need to talk. I’m just not breaking up with you.”

“Okay,” Dean breathed out in a relieved breath, pressing a kiss onto Castiel’s forehead before backing away, holding Castiel by the shoulders. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to apologize about yesterday.”

“You’ve apologized way too much today to begin with,” Dean observed, and then frowned. “What, you mean about the article? Or about the black eye? Because you _do_ know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m actually kind of proud. If a little twitchy, because I r _eally_ want to bash Zachariah’s face in for hitting you.”

“No,” Castiel said, frowning. “I meant about yesterday.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, not comprehending. And then it hit him.

“Oh,” Dean said, and then he started shaking his head, his hands tightening on Castiel’s arms. “Oh, _no_ way. No apologizing about that. You had one hell of a day, Cas. You were allowed to be a little forgetful. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Castiel demanded. “Dean, it was—”

“I know what day it was, babe,” Dean told him calmly before kissing his face again, this time on the temple. “And it was fourteen years ago. I might miss my mom, but it’s hurt less and less every year. But your dad? That’s happening now. And I would rather live in the present than get stuck in the past, especially if it means I got to be there for you on a really bad day. Got it?”

Castiel stared at him. He apparently stared for longer than he thought because Dean started fidgeting, making a face.

“What are you staring at me for?” Dean demanded gruffly, glancing away. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“You’re too good of a person, Dean,” Castiel murmured honestly, gripping onto Dean’s shirt even tighter, “but I’m not going to keep letting you fall on your sword. You’re allowed to be upset about things, even if other people aren’t okay either. This will never work if you act as crutch and don’t let me support you every once in a while, alright?”

“Cas,” Dean started to say but Castiel shook his head determinedly, and Dean cut himself off.

“No, Dean, I’m being serious. I’m not going to stand by and let you treat yourself like a secondhand citizen just because I’m having a bad day. I need you to promise me that you’re not going to do that anymore. I l—I don’t want this to be all about just me, because this is about _us_. I don’t want you to push me away from absolutely anything, no matter what’s happening in my life. Okay? So, I’m going to bring this up again, and I want you to be honest with me—are you okay about yesterday?”

Dean opened his mouth, that same expression on his face that Castiel knew to look for, and he just raised an eyebrow in warning. Dean snapped his mouth shut, sighing dramatically.

“Okay, fine, I still miss her,” Dean admitted, shrugging like he could just shoulder the feelings away. “That’s not something that’s going to change, you know? And every year I kind of get reminded about her over everything else and it stings a little, but I know there’s nothing I can change, and I don’t know if I would even _want_ to. I meant it that first night when we talked about being thankful for what happened because we made it here and I met _you_ and—and that’s the best thing right now, okay? You’re what’s been keeping me together since I met you. I think it’s up to me to decide that, and, in a way, I was a little relieved yesterday to not be completely trapped in that grief, you know? For better or worse, you gave me something else to think about. So. I don’t think that’s that bad.”

Castiel stared at Dean, a little frustrated, knowing that Dean knew what his sentiment was but Dean wasn’t fully ready to let go of his selfless impulses. Dean had spent so much of his life in the caregiver position that he seemed unable to easily step away from that role, even if it wasn’t the part he had to play anymore. Castiel knew there was nothing he could say or do other than reinforce his support of Dean as his own person, so he surrendered to it this time, albeit with a bit of a scowl. He narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend.

“If I ever do something that bothers you, or if you ever need to say something, you _need to say something_ ,” Castiel told him sternly, his hands tightening. “I care about you, okay? You’re not a crutch or a grunt or whatever you think you are. You’re Dean Winchester, and you’re the best man I’ve ever met. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dean whispered, looking away, but he looked like he might want to smile.

“Promise?”

“Sure thing, Cas.” Dean pulling him closer, tucking Castiel’s head under his chin. “But, for right now, I say we focus a little more on you, okay? It’s been fourteen years since my mom died, but about six months since all this stuff with your dad started. Let’s get through this in one piece before we sit down and have a deep conversation about psychology.”

Castiel muttered something that sounded like only a little bit of an agreement into Dean’s chest. Dean laughed, pulling away to grin down at Castiel, keeping him close but moving away just far enough that they could keep looking at each other. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Any backlash?”

“Michael is, as Gabriel cryptically put it, ‘handling it’,” Castiel told him, not freeing his hands but instead letting his tone convey the air-quotes, frowning. “I assume he is heralding his influence of law as a way to either keep them from hounding us, or to keep them from finding us at all. But it doesn’t matter. It’s only a short-term solution to a problem that’s soon to spiral out of control.”

“When’s the trial?”

“December second.”

“One month.”

“See what he did there?”

“Wow,” Dean replied dryly, eyebrows still high on his forehead. Castiel nodded grimly.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Castiel warned him cautiously, shifting to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck, leaning heavier into him. He closed his eyes for a moment. “It can only go downhill from here. Things are going to come out in that trial that aren’t going to be—and I understand if it’s too much, I really do, and I’m not going to be mad if you think it’s best to, well, _separate_ yourself from it—”

Dean put his hand over Castiel’s mouth, just softly enough that the skin of his palm barely brushed Castiel’s lips, just enough to get him to stop talking. Castiel fell silent, looking to Dean nervously.

“Stop,” Dean told him soundly, removing his hand. “This is you and me, okay? This is us. I’ll be here for as long as you need me to be. Deal?”

Castiel nodded slowly. Dean nodded back, and ducked forward for a kiss.

“I thought you were grounded,” Dean changed the subject.

“I am,” Castiel murmured. “I’ve felt at least six calls on my cell phone, and I assume they’re all Michael probably on his way over here now to drag me back to my tower.”

“Hmm,” Dean responded, lips twisting up, up to something. He sighed dramatically. “And how in the world could we possibly spend the remaining time until then?”

“You’re shameless,” Castiel told him.

“Yup,” Dean said in the same second that he started dragging Castiel into the living room, and Castiel laughed as Dean pushed him onto the couch and climbed on top of him, their fingers twisting together over Castiel’s head as Dean gazed down at him devilishly, grinning. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Nope,” Castiel replied, and pulled Dean down to meet him.

~*~

Michael was just as irritated about the jailbreak as expected, but Castiel was surprised that Michael didn’t explode through the roof when he asked his brother on Friday morning if he could go to Charlie’s that night. Instead, he looked almost relieved, like the thought of Castiel plaguing the halls of the house—against his will, he would like to add—was nothing more than a nuisance. Michael was so approving of him going and socializing that he all but shoved Castiel and Anna out the door, the keys to his car clutched tightly in Anna’s hand.

The door slammed behind them, and they both looked at the keys. Anna immediately handed them to Castiel, her eyebrows up.

“I think he’s losing his mind,” she told him solemnly, and he nodded.

“That’s what it looks like,” he agreed as they climbed into the car, Anna immediately reaching for control of the radio, which Castiel allowed. His car radio policy was usually the same as Dean’s, with the driver picking the music, but it was _because_ of Dean that Castiel was growing used to allowing the music to be controlled by other people, so it was a bit of a catch-22. Castiel threw the car in reverse, turning around to look behind the car as he backed out of the driveway.

“He hasn’t been home in three nights,” Anna said.

“Who, Michael?” Castiel asked, begging to differ. She shook her head.

“No, Balthazar. Gabriel hasn’t been back for two.”

“They stop in during the day,” Castiel told her, since she wouldn’t know. She nodded but still looked sideways out the window, biting her lip, so he figured he might have to intervene a little more than that. “Look, Anna, everyone is handling this the only way they can. And we both know that Gabriel and Balthazar are similar, and they like to run instead of fight. That’s not always a bad thing.”

“I know,” she sighed heavily, leaning back in the seat, her head tilted to look at the ceiling of Michael’s Corolla. “I just don’t want it to be like it was before.”

“It never will be,” he promised her sternly, glancing over to her. She didn’t turn toward him.

“I know,” she repeated, but it sounded like she was more trying to convince herself than anything.

Castiel had spent many a day trapped in the same wave of thought and, even though he still sometimes found himself suffocating there, he didn’t want that for his little sister. He stopped at a stop sign a few blocks away from Charlie’s house and threw the car in park, clicking on the hazards. Anna looked over at him, confused, at the same time Castiel manually locked all of the doors, locking them in.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re thinking like that,” he told her casually, making himself comfortable in his seat. She stared at him like he had spoken in tongues.

“You can’t be serious,” she accused, and then saw that he was. “Castiel, seriously, let’s go. We can’t just sit here forever.”

“We can, and we will,” he hummed as a car went around them, turning to smirk at his sister. “Now, are we ready to talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” But she was speaking through her teeth now. She looked like she was two seconds away from giving him another black eye. He had rarely ever seen his docile, kind little sister this kind of angry, _really_ angry. She looked like the kind of angel their father only wished he could be.

“I don’t want you to think like that,” he told her honestly, waiting to continue until she turned and met his eyes. “I mean it when I say it’ll never be like it was before. There’s a difference between our brothers needing some time away and our brothers leaving us for good, okay? Life moves on, Anna, and in five years most of us are going to be gone from this town. I know that it’s always been us for a long time, but everyone has to move on eventually.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she told him, and then flinched, looking away.

He stared at her for a second. And then another. “Anna.”

“I don’t mean you and Gabe and Balth leaving,” she told him honestly, not looking at him no matter how hard he stared, her back to him but he knew the expression that would be on her face. Telltale, her hands started rubbing at her arms, insecurity making itself known. “I meant the rest. Don’t make me say it.”

“Emmanuel is never going free,” Castiel told her in a hard voice, no room for argument. “He will never, _ever_ see any of us again once he’s sentenced. He _definitely_ isn’t going to see you and Hael and our little brothers again, that’s for damn sure. You don’t have to worry about him lingering around corners anymore. We’re _free_ , Anna. It’ll never be like that again.”

“I’m afraid, sometimes, illogically,” she confessed, sounding like she was choking on her own emotion, still not turning to face him. Her arms wound around herself tighter, making her smaller. “I mean—I know it’s not fair of me—just, sometimes, it—I look—”

Anna stuttered along, struggling to figure out just how to say it, but Castiel didn’t need her to clarify anymore. He flinched away from her, recoiling back in his seat, reaching up and clutching at the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead, wanting so much to be sick.

“We look like him,” Castiel finished for her, nauseous. “Me and Michael. We’re a lot like him.”

She recoiled, too, and said, “I know you’re not. But, sometimes, you’ll say something or Michael will, or one of you will move just like him, and it just—I don’t know. It’s just a moment of it, a flash, and then it’s gone. But it does happen, and I—God, Castiel, it makes me feel so _guilty_ , after what you and Michael have done—”

“Don’t ever feel guilty about that,” Castiel told her honestly, despite the feeling of being cold. “It’s outside of your control, it’s all mental. And it’s okay—it’ll probably go away, because you and I both know that me and Michael are nothing like him. We never will be.”

“I know,” she whispered, but her shoulders were relaxing, and her hands fell from clutching her forearms to rub at her face. She let out a shaky laugh. “I just had a nightmare last night and it freaked me out. I get them sometimes. It’s fine. I probably just need therapy.”

“We all do,” Castiel told her gravely, reaching out and putting the car back into drive, because he figured that was enough for now. “Michael is literally planning on making us all appointments once the trial is over. We’re gonna need it then more than ever.”

“You can say that again,” Anna replied dryly, and then laughed, shaking herself out of it. “I’m alright. I’m sorry. I really don’t think you’re him, you or Michael. I just—I don’t know. It’s irrational.”

“I couldn’t look you in the eye for a year after Mom,” Castiel blurted out, confessing, without really meaning to. Anna fell silent, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as her eyes widen as she turned to him. He smiled guiltily. “You look so much like her. It was like rubbing at an open wound sometimes, especially when you just kept growing up and acting just like her. But time moves on, and I learned to stop projecting onto you. And time will do that for you, too. That’s all that can be done, really.”

Anna didn’t say anything as Castiel parked behind the Impala in front of Charlie’s house, both of them climbing out. She didn’t say anything until she crossed the space between them and threw her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest. Castiel reached up and wound his arms around her tightly, pulling her closer. He ducked his head down to bury it in her hair.

“I love you, big bro,” she whispered against his shirt, burying deeper when he tightened his hold ever so slightly. “I don’t say it much. I’ll try saying it more, alright?”

“Alright,” he murmured, moving his head to press a kiss to the top of her head, pulling away from her. “I love you too, Anna. You never need to be afraid to talk to me about anything, okay? Even if it’s about me.”

She nodded. He mussed her hair before heading for the front door of Charlie’s house, Anna grumbling softly from a few steps behind him as she tried to fix her hair without a mirror, probably frowning. The thought alone made him smile as he reached out and let them in, as Charlie had urged them to do from the very beginning. He held the door open for her. She thanked him with a sharp poke to the rib cage.

Castiel confidently believed that he could speak for both of them that they weren’t expecting to make it down the stairs and find their friends engaged in a game of Twister in the cleared space of the basement, all of them blurred at the edges of tangled limbs, and Castiel didn’t know where some ended and others began. He blinked slowly, like maybe it was just a hallucination.

Ash, who was the only figure to be clearly seen, was sitting on the couch with the spinner on his lap. He nodded to them as he spotted them, the others too busy wiggling and bickering and giggling.

“Hola, amigos,” he greeted. “Wanna play?”

“No,” Castiel replied in serious deadpan as Anna said, “Hell yeah.”

Castiel sighed heavily, and it was in that moment of his own drama that Dean’s head popped out from the side of the blobbed mass, somewhere around Jo’s forearm and Garth’s neck.

“Whoever wins gets to pick the movie,” Dean told him gravely, shifting awkwardly with a grimace as Ash said in a monotone voice, “Right arm red.” Dean wobbled for a moment but stayed upright, waiting until he was sure in his own abilities before turning back to Castiel. “I’m gunning for _Lord of the Rings_ , babe, so you gotta cheer for me or I can’t talk to you anymore.”

“We watched that two weeks ago,” Charlie groaned from . . . somewhere. “I wanna watch the _Star Trek_ reboot.”

“You guys never let me put on _The King’s Speech_ ,” Garth mumbled, frowning. “It’s a really good movie, guys, I swear.”

“ _Fast and Furious_!” Jo growled, and Garth yipped, which probably meant that she had either kicked or punched him somewhere under the cover of packed limbs.

“Actually,” Anna said, “I’m gonna sit this one out. Good luck, everyone. May the odds be ever in your favor and all that.”

“Anna, no,” Garth whined as Ash empathetically read, “Left leg blue.”

“Winchester, I want that crotch nowhere near me,” Charlie barked.

“Ouch, Garth, that’s my neck!” Jo complained.

“Winchester, get _away_ from me.”

“I think I pulled something,” Garth groaned.

“ _Winchester, get your crotch out of my face_ , oh my god, Cas, _stop him_!”

“Right arm yellow.”

“Look at our choices,” Anna told Castiel soberly, nodding to their writhing and wriggling mound of friends and boyfriends, shaking her head in awe. “Of all places we could have ended up, we ended up here.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Castiel told her. She nudged him with her shoulder, smiling.

“Me either,” she murmured, even as the mass of bodies collapsed onto the ground in a loud shout, and then they were all off at once, shoving each other off of themselves as they cried that they won, deeming their movie the winner. Anna grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watched them go to war, Castiel watching the way Dean laughed and smiling to himself, wanting nothing more than what they had now.

They ended up watching the first _Harry Potter_ movie. Dean pouted all the way up until the Sorting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Slang


	13. Faithful Found, Among the Faithless

“Happy birthday!” Charlie screamed, and engulfed him into a hug. Castiel laughed, bringing his arms up around her, Dean rolling his eyes from off to the side.

“Charlie, my birthday was Tuesday,” Castiel deadpanned.

“I know that, stupid,” she told him as she pulled away, frowning at him. “But I didn’t get to see you on Tuesday because of Thanksgiving break, and now I see you. So, happy birthday!”

“You texted me,” he reminded her. “Three times.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Charlie,” Castiel sighed, deciding to give up the fight and just let her grab his wrist and drag him into the house, heading to the basement. Charlie’s foster mother glanced up as they trooped past and offered a kind smile before looking back down at her book. Dean faithfully followed behind them, smirking.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, the rest of their friends, including Anna, who had ducked past Charlie when she had been more preoccupied with wishing Castiel a half dozen happy birthdays, all sprung onto their feet, cheering.

“It’s the birthday boy!” Garth cheered.

“My birthday was three days ago,” Castiel corrected, blinking slowly. He wasn’t overwhelmed, necessarily, but he was . . . surprised. The Novaks hadn’t made a big deal about birthdays in a long while, except for the littler kids. For Castiel’s birthday, they’d only all wished him a happy birthday and baked him a cake, and it was more than he’d gotten the last couple of birthdays so he had been content. He wasn’t used to people continuously making good things in his life a big deal.

“We’re pretending your birthday is today,” Jo told him sternly, leaving no room for question in her voice. She strode over to the coffee table, next to where Ash was passed out sleeping on the floor, and picked up a container, holding it up proudly. “My mom and I even made you a cake!”

Castiel had met Ellen Harvelle only a few weeks ago, when he’d scored a car again and had given Jo and Ash a ride home after their basement meet up. Castiel had never met a woman before who had scared him so much that he respected her immediately, but Ellen was one hundred percent that person. He supposed he must have made a good impression, since the cake Jo was presenting wasn’t just homemade but also decorated with icing, a sloppy ‘Happy Bee-Day, Cas!’ written on it by, obviously, Dean.

Castiel took one look at it and turned his expectant gaze to his boyfriend. Dean smirked at him.

Dean was never going to let him live those bee pajama pants down.

None of their other friends seemed willing to ask, because Charlie immediately clapped her hands together excitedly. “Cake and pizza, and then birthday games!”

“Birthday games?” Castiel demanded, turning to her, suddenly apprehensive. “Oh, no, that is entirely unnecessary—”

“Shut up,” Charlie told him kindly, no room for argument in her voice. Castiel’s mouth snapped shut on whatever argument he had been trying to make, letting a sigh escape instead. He took the moment to step forward and wrap Charlie in a hug, a warm bubble of gratitude expanding in his chest until bursting, nearly choking him. Charlie immediately succumbed into the embrace, smiling as she hugged him back even tighter, burying her head in his chest.

He gave her a tight squeeze, not the least bit swayed by their audience, before he ducked down and kissed her on the top of her head and murmured, “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Anytime, Cas,” she mumbled back, glancing up just long enough to shoot him one of her beautiful smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, before she stepped back from him, clearing her throat. “Enough of this gooey show of emotions. Food! Videogames! Debauchery! Dean’s striptease!”

Ash sat up from the floor, suddenly wide awake, his eyebrows up. “A repeat performance, Winchester? I thought we’d seen enough of that when you danced on the bar of the Roadhouse last summer.”

Dean smirked at the other boy. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t throw dollar bills at me.”

“For effect,” Ash agreed, nodding.

Charlie rolled her eyes at the two as she grabbed Castiel by the elbow and tugged him over to the table as Jo started lighting the candles, eighteen of them unevenly spaced around the top of the cake. Charlie pushed him down in the middle of the couch and Dean sunk down next to him, his hands reaching for him automatically, curling around his waist. Castiel leaned into him, turning his head to smile at his boyfriend, even though Dean was still bickering with Ash.

“Dibs on Castiel’s right,” Anna cried before diving onto the couch, very nearly accidentally punching Castiel in the face in the process. She smirked over at him even when he frowned, her big brown eyes bright and happy, and he felt his frown immediately smooth away into a smile. She bumped her shoulder against his. He bumped hers back.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” he asked her, and she shrugged, but it was obvious she had an answer. Her smile calmed into something more of a content variety than hyperactive and she scooted closer to curl into his side, leaning her head into Castiel’s shoulder.

“We’re at a good place,” she murmured into the chaos of their friend’s banter, the two of them in their own little bubble. She lifted her head to look into his eyes, and she smiled in what could only be relief. “We’re happy. _You’re_ happy. Hopefully soon I won’t be so surprised to see that, huh?”

He took a moment to glance around at the circle, with Jo frowning and cursing as two of the candles refused to light, with Ash leaning across the table as he and Dean continued to joke around with each other about dancing on table tops, and Garth was settling down on the floor in front of Anna, leaning back against her legs and watching Charlie as she shuffled around a couple of boxes, muttering something about fireworks. Castiel couldn’t stop smiling as he turned to look back at his little sister, his best friend since they were in diapers, and he felt like he had been kicked in the chest in the best possible way every time he saw the carefree smile on her face, the relaxed angle of her shoulders.

Anna was right. They were free. No matter what happened, they were always going to be free, and this was their future right in front of them. This was their best friends and a cake and unlit sparklers that Charlie was smirking over and holding up triumphantly. This was Dean’s arm around his waist and Anna smiling down at Garth as she ran her hands along his shoulders, and this was Jo and Charlie sneaking shy smiles when they thought no one would notice.

“Soon,” Castiel agreed to her softly as Jo started calling for order, citing that the candles were going to start dripping wax and melting icing if they waited any longer, and Charlie collapsed next to Jo, pulling her phone up with a bright smile.

They sang him Happy Birthday, with Dean singing the loudest and into his ear, pressing kisses onto the side of Castiel’s face as he laughed, Dean’s lips tugged up into a big happy smile. Castiel put one hand on Dean’s thigh and leaned as much as he could into his boyfriend, his heart beating an energized tattoo against his rib cage. Dean turned and smiled at him like Castiel was the sun that his whole universe revolved around, and Castiel would never be able to comprehend how he could possibly love Dean Winchester more and more with every passing day.

“Make a wish, make a wish!” Charlie cheered when it was time to blow out the candles, still holding onto her phone. Castiel had no idea if it was a video or pictures, and he supposed it didn’t matter. He was grateful someone was capturing the moment at all to begin with, because he didn’t want to forget this for a moment.

Dean nudged him, nodding toward the candles, grinning. Castiel stole an extra look at that smile before he turned his attention back to the candles, considering what in the world he would wish for when he had everything he ever wanted.

 _I wish for this to never change_ , Castiel thought to himself, and then he blew out the candles.

Everyone cheered, clapping, while Jo immediately ducked forward to grab up the candles from the cake and Charlie dove for the knife and forks and paper plates, Garth and Ash calling dibs for corner pieces. Castiel sat back into the couch, smiling, and Dean wasted no time before grabbing Castiel’s face in between his hands and kissing him chastely, pulling away with that bright smile. Castiel beamed at him, ignoring the slight burn to his cheeks when he heard Anna wolf whistle, almost too used to their friends’ teasing to care.

“What was that for?” Castiel murmured. Dean ducked forward and kissed the tip of his nose, pulling back to shake his head, his fingers curling into Castiel’s hair. He leaned into the warm hands framing his face, and Dean’s eyes were soft when he looked at him.

“I’m happy that you’re happy,” Dean whispered too low for any of the others to hear, sacrificing a timid smile before his hands fell from Castiel’s face, moving to take his hand. Castiel weaved their fingers together and squeezed, leaning over to kiss Dean on the cheek.

He spoke so low that he didn’t know if Dean would even hear him, “ _You_ make me happy.”

Castiel pulled away to find Dean’s cheeks were flaming red, obviously having heard him loud and clear, but his smile was small and humble, as if he didn’t think Castiel really meant what he said. He squeezed Castiel’s hand but glanced away when Charlie called for Castiel’s attention, grinning like a goofball and glancing in between them when he finally turned to face her. Her grin only widened when she thrust two plates at him, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

Castiel handed Dean his piece of cake, not quite managing to smother his smirk when he saw Dean’s cheeks were still bright pink, and Dean only sent him a half-assed glare when he noticed his amusement.

“Dean,” Castiel said gravely. “I know you hate cake, but we have to get over our differences and suffer for each other. Are you willing to make that commitment?”

“You’re the worst,” Dean groaned, rolling his eyes, but he took the cake without complaint anyway, shifting so that their thighs were pressed against each other. From Castiel’s other side, Anna laughed.

“So, Cas, what’d you wish for?” Jo asked from the other side of the coffee table, where she was sitting on a cushion. Her eyes were earnest and her smile was kind, and Castiel would never not be surprised that even the person in the group who he had one of the least amounts of contact with still welcomed him openly and treated him like her friend. He grinned over at her, raising his eyebrows.

“It won’t come true if I tell,” he pointed out, and then took a bite of the cake. Jo groaned, pouting at him.

“No fun,” Jo chastised him. “Dean always used to tell me.”

“We were ten,” Dean reminded her patiently, already halfway through his piece. “And that doesn’t count. That was the same birthday you told my little brother where babies come from.”

“You’re welcome,” Jo replied simply, giving him a smug grin.

Dean muttered something unintelligible into the cake, shoving another bite into his mouth. Jo laughed, simpering to give him a smile of pure malice that only someone like a sibling could harbor, and Castiel found himself grinning as he looked in between the two fondly.

“I think I’m gonna keep this one quiet, Jo,” Castiel told her with a smile. “I’d like this one to come to pass.”

Jo sighed like he was so totally impossible before turning to send a scathing remark to Ash, who was muttering something negative about the state of the cake’s icing even though he continued eating it anyway. Castiel leaned into Dean and just sat back as he watched the world move around him, knowing that this was where he belonged and where he wanted to be, and he couldn’t be more honored that he could be here at all.

So he stopped thinking, and he started living.

He laughed his way through a competitive game of Mario Kart, when Charlie kept kicking Dean’s shin every time he tripped her up on the screen and when Jo won four races in a row and declared herself supreme champion.

He smiled his way through charades, which he was apparently horrible at, if the goading of his friends was to be believed, and Cards Against Humanity, where Anna kept winning with the dirtiest and most disturbing answers. He laughed when Dean kept suggestively propositioning Twister, and he put his foot down when Charlie seemed determined to make enemies with suggesting Monopoly.

He grinned as they moved their way outside armed with minor fireworks and haphazard science projects that Ash assured them would be just like the real thing, Charlie and Anna leaping dramatically through the dark with a Sparkler in each hand while Garth tried to play the drums with his own, Jo conducting him through it. Dean and Castiel giggled from the edge of the action, writing their names in the sparks and drawing shapes like hearts, sharing shy smiles over the displays before their lights burnt out and Dean swept him into a kiss that felt long overdue.

He laid with the others in the grass as they watched Ash’s more-than-likely dangerous homemade fireworks explode in the air in vivid reds and blues and greens and yellows, lighting up the night the kind of way that was probably going to get the cops called on them. All of them watched in silent reverence as the colors danced against the inky black of the late nighttime, all of them living in the moment where they were nothing but reckless teenagers with rocky pasts that were ready to tear apart the world if they had to in order to be happy. Castiel laid there with his hand tightly woven with Dean’s, their arms pressed tightly together as the colors lit their faces, and Castiel felt invincible.

~*~

“Hey, Cas,” the wrong voice chimed when the front door opened to the Winchester-Singer household. Sam grinned brightly at him from over the space of the threshold, towering at Castiel’s height despite only being halfway to fifteen. Cas immediately smiled back, like a reflex.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel replied easily. “Is Dean home?”

Sam ignored the question completely and glanced up at the sky, grimacing at the gray clouds. “You should come in before it rains,” Sam told him, stepping back from the doorway and offering him entrance. Castiel was starting to understand what was happening here but didn’t let it show on his face, instead smiling at Sam thankfully before stepping into the warmth of the house. The smell of food cooking wafted in from the kitchen, and there was no Dean in sight.

Castiel turned back to Sam and grinned, trying not to laugh. “You know, Dean warned me about this.”

“Sorry,” Sam said, but his smirk showed that he wasn’t sorry at all. “Dean’s helping Bobby’s friend Rufus fix something in the shop; he’ll probably be another hour. Plus, Hael told me it would probably be easier to get you here if I texted with Dean’s phone instead of formally inviting you.”

“My sister has a flair for the dramatic,” Castiel replied, rolling his eyes. Sam laughed in response, instructing him to first take his coat off, and then follow him. Castiel hung up his trench coat reluctantly, trepidation curling harshly under his skin.

Castiel knew he had nothing to fear, really, and that this surge of the fight or flight response was just his sympathetic nervous system taking his anxiety and running with it. He knew the science behind nervousness, and he knew that there was absolutely no threat in meeting his boyfriend’s family, even if Dean wasn’t there to act as a human buffer. Castiel knew real fear and real danger, and having a nice dinner at a kitchen table with virtual strangers was not dangerous at all.

He knew what he was most nervous about. Although he’d had conversations with Sam before, they had been short and in passing, generally when Sam was on his way in or out with Hael or when Castiel was in or out with Dean. He’d seen Sam around school half a thousand times, and they always smiled at each other kindly when they passed each other in the hall. But, of course, he’d never met Bobby, their parental guardian now that both of their parents were gone, and all Castiel basically knew about the man was that he ran an auto shop and was, according to Dean, “the only person who can out-bitch Sam”.

So, yes. He was nervous, and a little intimidated. But not of Bobby himself, and definitely not at Sam with his too-long hair and bright smile. He was afraid they would hate him, maybe not necessarily as a person, but as Dean’s boyfriend. He was all too aware that the press was ramping back up, his father’s hearing in only a handful of days now, and he knew the press around it was absolutely nothing other than negative. He remembered the looks his family got when they first moved in, looks they will more than likely receive again once the trial begins, and he did not want to see that same look of fear and disgust on the face of Dean’s second father.

Castiel eventually had to face the music, though, and he followed behind Sam into the kitchen, the smell of stew cooking in a crockpot practically heavenly. Standing by the crockpot, leaning against the counter with a beer, was a middle-aged man with a beard, wearing a ratty old cap on his head, his jeans covered in grease stains. He looked over when Castiel and Sam entered, straightening only slightly. Really, the only thing that changed about his whole appearance was his eyebrows going up.

“You always dress like you’re going to church?” the man asked with an accent Castiel couldn’t quite place. Castiel glanced down at himself self-consciously, but he was only wearing his usual dress shoes, khakis, and white button-up. Castiel vaguely and worriedly wondered if he should’ve worn a tie.

“Yes, sir,” Castiel answered gravely, perhaps a little too seriously. Sam’s lips pursed to keep in his laughter.

The man’s eyebrows didn’t lower, but a smirk did pull at his lips. He set down his beer and shrugged away from the counter, extending his hand toward Castiel. Castiel shook it.

“Gonna assume you know who I am,” Bobby told him. “And it’s not like Dean ever shuts up about you.”

Castiel, against his will, felt a blush start to creep up onto his cheeks. Sam visibly bit his cheek, laughter and amusement still crinkling the corners of his eyes. He smiled like Dean, in a way. Castiel didn’t have the heart to glare at the younger boy for enjoying his potential misery.

Castiel must have looked horribly stoic, despite the obvious embarrassment, and it was enough to make Bobby laugh, a deep sound that originated somewhere in the man’s gut. He reached for his beer, still smirking, without looking away from Castiel.

“At ease, son,” Bobby told him. “Not gonna dig into you about your daddy. We’re the last people that’re gonna judge you for somethin’ outta your control.”

Sam nodded in affirmation, his smile shifting back into something kind. Castiel nodded back, forcing his shoulders to relax. It took another deep breath before he could even consider relaxing his facial muscles.

“My apologies,” Castiel replied, offering a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“’Bout time, too,” Bobby commented easily, taking a swig of beer. “Dean’s sneaky when he wants to be. Think he thought we’d scare you off or somethin’.”

Dean could’ve thought a handful of things, but Castiel knew Dean’s major fear was the same as his own—that, for whatever reason, Bobby and Sam wouldn’t approve of Castiel as anything other than a friend. It would have been a devastating blow to Dean, to know that the two people he trusted the most didn’t approve. They were both admittedly a little terrified of that, and it made it easier to procrastinate the inevitable.

Castiel’s family had been something else. There were too many of them to wonder about being disproved of, and their opinions, although nice, were not nearly as important to Castiel as Dean considered his family’s.

Castiel was almost thankful that Sam had taken the initiative. Fear was a strong deterrent, and Castiel was sick and tired of being afraid, even of something as simple as meeting his boyfriend’s family.

Sam, probably sensing that Castiel was at least vaguely considering fleeing, quickly stepped forward and offered Castiel to sit down at the kitchen table, taking a seat himself across from him. Castiel nodded his thanks to Sam and looked back to Bobby, although now it felt even more like an interrogation.

Bobby just kept watching him. It would be unnerving if Castiel didn’t do the exact same thing to every new person he met. Instead, Castiel just stared back patiently, waiting for the next line of questioning.

“How many siblings do you have?” Bobby demanded suddenly, the question so far out of left field that it caught Castiel off guard, causing him to blink a little too much. Bobby elaborated when Castiel must have seemed mystified, “Dean tried explaining that night he went over to yours, but I kept losin’ track. Hael’s only mentioned you and a Michael.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. He’d been hearing that sibling question from parishioners and friends since before his mother disappeared, and it was logical that Hael stuck to the basics around the Winchesters. “I have three older brothers,” Castiel explained, “two younger sisters, and then two more younger brothers.”

“And the oldest is takin’ care of all you?” Bobby questioned, sounding surprised, his eyebrows returning to raised high. Castiel nodded.

“Michael is a lawyer, and he’s the only one of my elder brothers with a career and not in school. He does what he can but, mostly, we take care of each other, which means a lot of babysitting duty for me. Thankfully, the youngest—his name is Sam, actually—just turned eight this summer, so he will soon become more self-sufficient.”

Bobby looked a mixture of surprised, impressed, and a little sad. Castiel was rather used to seeing that look on other people’s faces, so he took it with a grain of salt. Bobby seemed to catch himself, though, and he raised a salute with his beer before taking a swig to finish it off, saying as he set it back on the counter, “Kudos to your elder brother, then. That’s a lot of kids under one roof.”

Castiel nodded in exhausted agreement.

Sam dove in like he had been waiting for a lull in the conversation, which he probably had, leaning forward to grin eagerly up at Castiel. “So, Cas—I have one important question for you.”

Castiel stayed silent, allowing Sam to continue. Sam paused before he leaned forward in his chair.

“Do you like _Star Trek_?” Sam asked intensely.

Castiel nodded very seriously. Sam echoed him, expression just as solemn.

They stared at each other like that for a long time before they both broke at the same time, erupting into nonsensical laughter of easy friends, and Bobby rolled his eyes at both of them from the counter, turning away with a mutter of, “ _Idjits._ ”

As Castiel sat laughing with Sam Winchester, the boy Dean had raised with his whole soul, and Bobby Singer, the parent Dean trusted with all of his big heart, Castiel had absolutely no idea why either Dean or himself had thought he wouldn’t be welcome in a household that loved and accepted Dean wholly and fully, with the people Dean cared about the most in the universe.

Castiel should have known he would be welcomed immediately into the world of the people that loved Dean, but the reassurance was relief like a weight off of Castiel’s chest, and he couldn’t stop feeling like, if he wasn’t careful, the happiness would sweep him up like a set of wings, and would let him fly.

~*~

Dean walked through the kitchen door, and froze.

“Took you long enough,” Bobby muttered from the counter, where he was scooping the stew into individual soup bowls. Sam and Castiel, sitting at the kitchen table, barely even looked up from their game of chess, but Castiel did send a smile in Dean’s direction before watching Sam make his next move. From the kitchen doorway, Dean blinked a few times, like he was convinced he might be hallucinating.

“What’s happening?” he asked finally, sounding very alarmed. Sam turned only to roll his eyes at his brother before turning back when Castiel made a move on the board, and winning in one foul swoop. Castiel took Sam’s queen and smirked up at him.

“Check mate,” Castiel said.

“How did you do that?” Sam demanded incredulously, staring down at the board in awe as he retraced Castiel’s last steps. “Even _Bobby_ doesn’t beat me anymore! Not fair!”

Castiel smirked at the younger boy, a little smug over a victory and a little too pleased to know someone who’s willing to play chess with him.

“Practice and strategy,” Castiel told him, tracing his last moves with his fingers over the board. Sam watched like he was committing the move to memory, frowning so hard his brow was furrowed. Castiel looked up when he noticed Dean still hadn’t moved, his boyfriend still standing in the doorway like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

Dean turned to scowl at Bobby. “I was tricked.”

“I told you to come up with a better passcode for that phone of yours,” Bobby replied, bringing two of the bowls to the table as Sam picked up the chessboard, gesturing for Castiel to stay seated. Bobby placed one in front of Castiel and one in front of the empty seat next to him, obviously Dean’s. He dropped some silverware next to the plates before saying, without having to look up, “Close your mouth, boy. Flies’ll nest.”

Dean did, crossing his arms over his chest. “Rufus didn’t need help, did he? I _knew_ he was stalling me—the guy never stopped micromanaging me.”

Bobby just turned to his adopted son, and rolled his eyes.

Dean gave him one last displeased glare before walking over to Castiel, pausing to duck his head and kiss his temple. Castiel beamed at him happily as Dean took the seat next to him, the scowl immediately melting to return the smile. Dean took the opportunity to quickly dart forward and press a kiss to Castiel’s lips, pulling back quickly with a grin when Sam returned and made a heaving noise.

“Gross,” Sam complained, glaring across the table at his older brother. “Not at the table, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied like a knee-jerk reaction, not even bothering to look at him. He sent Castiel a wink before scooting their chairs even closer together, so that their thighs pressed against each other’s under the table. “How long’ve you been here?”

“At least an hour,” Castiel replied casually as Dean immediately started eating, not even waiting for Bobby to sit down. Dean nearly choked on the mouthful of food, turning to Castiel with wide, guilty, nervous eyes.

Castiel looked him right in the eyes before he smiled reassuringly, hoping he was telling him everything that he could without words—assuring him that they worried for nothing, that Castiel felt like he was accepted here, and that he couldn’t be happier to be sitting here at a table with Dean and his family.

Dean reached over and squeezed his hand. When he smiled, Castiel knew that the other boy understood, and he squeezed back.

“Alright, enough of that,” Bobby snapped from the other side of the table, scowling at them over his fork. “You’re both sickenin’. We’re tryin’ to eat.”

Sam nodded in agreement, scrunching his nose at them. Dean simply replied by sighing heavily and taking his hand back, brushing it over Castiel’s thigh before reaching for his own silverware. Castiel followed suit, ducking his head in hopes that no one would notice the smile he couldn’t seem to tame—but, if the look on Dean’s face was anything to go by, his expression was definitely noticed, and Dean’s smile was just about as bright in return.

Sam sighed. “This meal is gonna be torture.”

Dean threw a carrot at him.

~*~

It didn’t happen until hours later, hours after Castiel said his goodbyes to Sam and Bobby and let Dean take him home, hours after Castiel’s older brothers all returned back from work. Michael and Gabriel were sitting and talking in the kitchen while Castiel sat with Balthazar and all of his younger siblings in front of the television in the living room, hypnotized by the History Channel. It didn’t happen until closer to eleven o’clock in the evening, after they had put Samandriel to bed, and Inias and Hael were falling asleep on each other on the love seat.

At three minutes until eleven o’clock, there was a loud, sharp knock on the front door.

Castiel looked up with a frown but immediately offered to get it, waving off Balthazar when his older brother made a move to stand up. Michael walked out into the hallway, face drawn in curiosity, as Castiel reached the door, checking through the peephole.

Castiel recognized him instantly. It was like all of the air was knocked out of him, but he didn’t hesitate for a second before he frantically threw open the front door, hands shaking.

Agent Victor Henriksen stood on the porch, his face drawn tight, solemn. He looked at Castiel, his expression like it was carved from stone, his eyes drifting to where Michael must have stood somewhere behind him.

Castiel knew that look. He had seen it before.

He suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“It’s Emmanuel,” Victor announced, like a death sentence; and, from that point on, the world as Castiel knew it would never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop's ability to wifi is working again! Yay!
> 
> Here's my long-overdue update!
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	14. Bone of My Bone

Castiel’s hand was shaking as he knocked on Dean’s front door at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning, glancing backward nervously to where Michael’s car was loitering at the curb, Samandriel’s face pressed against the window of the backseat and making funny faces at Castiel, obviously hoping he would notice and laugh. Castiel sent him a fleeting smile, the effort to contort his face nearly staggeringly exhausting, as the door opened. Castiel looked back to the door to find Sam standing there in rumpled pajamas, his hair sticking out at a million odd angles, but he smiled wakefully at Castiel, the same kind of despicable morning person as Gabriel. Castiel blinked at Sam, and forced himself to smile again.

“Good morning, Cas,” Sam greeted automatically, his eyes flickering to Michael’s car. His smile was welcoming but it was slowly changing to resemble something more like concern. “What’s up?”

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel said slowly. “I assume Dean isn’t up?”

“No,” Sam answered at the same pace, his smile fading with his overwhelmingly kind concern. “Is everything alright?”

“I needed to speak to him. It’s—it’s a bit of an emergency, but I can call him later—”

“No way,” Sam dismissed, immediately and automatically stepping back to allow him passage into the house. Castiel stepped inside nervously, sending one last glance at the car before closing the door behind him. Sam watched him anxiously, his thoughts written on his face like an open book, enough that Castiel could tell one important thing. He smiled at the younger boy humorlessly.

“I take it you’ve seen the news,” Castiel commented, and Sam grimaced.

“Cas,” Sam began, tone pitying and sympathetic, “I am so sorry.”

Castiel just shook his head, hands shaking at the thought of hearing it out loud again. Sam silenced immediately, knowing better about these things than anyone should ever, and glanced at the stairs.

“I’ll go wake him up,” Sam immediately offered, and interrupted when Castiel opened his mouth to protest. “Don’t worry about it, Cas, I’m used to it. That, and he tends to throw things when woken up before double digits on his day off, and you look way too out of it to dodge.”

Castiel wasn’t about to argue with that. He’d only had a couple of hours of sleep, and he still wasn’t emotionally recovered from the looks on Anna and Hael’s faces when he had to tell them the news. He spent the last couple of hours packing bags and transferring them to whichever car they fit into, helping Michael prepare coolers of sandwiches and snacks for the drive ahead. Castiel figured Sam probably had a good point, and he didn’t think he would be a reassuring sight for Dean to wake up to when he was in this state.

Sam rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time, and disappeared shortly before the sound of a door creaking open. Castiel heard a couple of muffled voices before a loud telltale bang of Dean indeed throwing something at his brother, and Castiel started pulling nervously at his sweatshirt as he listened, glancing down at his ripped jeans and Converse and wondering when he had last let himself look this informal. He took a deep, shaky breath in the silence.

Footsteps stomping quickly down the stairs signaled Dean’s arrival, and Castiel turned to him at the same second Dean, rumpled from sleep and face still creased from the pillow, jumped the last two stairs, his face twisted in worry and concern. When he spotted Castiel, his expression immediately shifted to include panic, too. Castiel tried to smile at him in reassurance, but it probably only looked tortured and worried him more.

“What’s wrong?” Dean demanded without taking a breath, crossing the space in between them without hesitation and grabbing Castiel’s face in his hands, his eyes sleepy but wide with adrenaline. “Sam said it’s something about your dad. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

It was too many questions, too many that Castiel didn’t even know how to answer. So, instead of trying to, he just said it out loud, and wondered when he would start to feel numb to it.

Castiel told him, “My father is going to confess.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending.

“What?” he finally demanded the second it hit him, his eyes going wide and his fingers clutching at Castiel a little bit harder. “To what? To _everything_?”

Castiel nodded slowly, feeling like, if he moved his head too fast, he might be sick. He tried to hook his lips into a reassuring smile, seeing Dean so freaked making him want to jump over the moon if it would make the other boy feel better. But Castiel’s smile must not have looked that reassuring, probably didn’t look anything short of pained and scared, because Dean didn’t smile back. Instead, he brought their heads closer together so he could lean his forehead on Castiel’s, a warm and solid presence, making him feel safe. Castiel leaned a little heavier into Dean, nuzzling his face closer as his hands came out to wind around Dean’s waist.

Here, right here, Castiel let himself breathe, and he let himself just stop thinking for a moment, thinking about nothing other than the secure feel of Dean holding him here, keeping him grounded. Castiel squeezed him once, extra tight, before he loosened his hold, keeping a loose grip on the front of Dean’s t-shirt so they couldn’t move too far away.

“Are you okay?” Dean demanded again when Castiel was grounded, ready to start speaking again as long as Dean didn’t let go, his face still so close that Castiel couldn’t dream of looking away from forest green. He thought about the question for a moment.

“Not really,” he told him honestly, clearing his throat when his voice shook slightly. “I don’t know what to expect. I don’t think any of us do. And that’s—”

Castiel’s sentence drifted off into nothingness, because he didn’t exactly know what it was. It was a thousand things at once, a thousand words that wouldn’t do the feeling in his chest any justice. He didn’t know how he was. He could barely make out his own thought process as anything other than a garbled rush of syllables.

Dean seemed to understand, the same way he always understands everything. He nodded his head slowly before leaning forward and kissing right between Castiel’s eyebrows, where he knew there was a wrinkle that always showed up when he was frowning from all of the times Dean had unconsciously reached up and tried to free him from whatever thought haunted him with nothing more than his fingers, like he wished he held the power to wipe the slate clean. Castiel’s smile was a lot less forced when he met Dean’s eyes again, that warmth in his chest every time he looked at the other boy cutting through the fog of his mind and the chaos of his chest.

Castiel’s smile fell fast, though, almost before he wanted to, when he whispered, “I’m scared.”

“About what?” Dean murmured, running his hands soothingly up and down Castiel’s arms.

“About what that final number will be. About how many people I’m going to feel personally responsible for, because I did nothing to stop him. About what people will think of me and my siblings, about the accusations that are going to thrown at us. I’m worried about the kids at school, not just ours but Sam and Inias’s, and how they will treat us and them. And I—I’m scared of seeing him again.”

Dean squeezed his wrists, trying to offer as much comfort as he could in just a touch, and Castiel tucked that warmth up and stored it safely away in his heart. Dean didn’t say anything, though, just stayed silent, because maybe he knew as well as Castiel did that he needed to talk, and that he needed someone to listen. Castiel couldn’t stop himself before he was telling Dean, “He won’t admit to the charges for child abuse, and they’ll never pursue it if he does truly confess. And I know it’s stupid but I—I’m still terrified of him, even though I know he can’t do anything, and I’m not nearly as afraid of him as I am of just living with that constant fear again, and I—I—”

Dean kissed his brow again. Castiel nearly fell apart, his voice breaking as he whispered shakily, biting back tears, “And I’m scared that, after what comes out with this, that you and Charlie and them, that you guys—I’m terrified I won’t even be able to look you in the eye, and I—”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted him softly, barely louder than a breath, and Dean waited until Castiel stopped speaking and looked up at him before smiling down at him with so much affection that it nearly made Castiel’s chest split. “None of that, okay? Don’t ever worry about them. We’ll never do that to you—I will never, _ever_ do that to you. Nothing your father did will change what I think about you, because you’re a thousand times better than him. More than a thousand, even. And I want you to know—it’s okay to be scared, even of things you can’t control, but I’ll always be here if and when you need me.”

Dean kissed him on his face, softly. Castiel had to clench his jaw, hard, to will himself to maintain his composure.

“You were strong for your siblings for so long, and you took the blunt of your father’s rage,” Dean murmured, moving his hands on Castiel’s skin like worship, “and it’s okay be scared. It’s okay for you to need someone, Cas. And I just want you to know that I will always be there for you, no matter what you need. You can call me at any time, and I will answer, and I will _never_ judge you for anything you say or believe. Okay?”

Castiel didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded. Dean nodded back, pulling him closer. Castiel rested his forehead on Dean’s collarbone, breathing in the smell he was beginning to relate to home, and safety.

“When do you leave?” Dean asked softly. Castiel huffed a bitter sound against Dean’s shirt.

“Michael’s outside in the car with Samandriel,” Castiel informed him, pulling away. “He’s probably getting impatient.”

As if on cue, there was the sound of a loud, almost impatient, car horn. Dean and Castiel both glanced to the door, and couldn’t help but to smile at the humor of it. But Dean’s face was still tinged in sadness and worry and the same three words on the tip of Castiel’s tongue that neither of them could let fly. Dean brushed his hand over Castiel’s cheek before offering him a small smile, leaning forward to claim a kiss before stepping away, only his hands lingering softly on Castiel’s wrists.

“Call me if you need me, okay?” Dean told him, solid like the start of the most important promise, and Castiel nodded. Dean looked him in the eye another moment, like he was considering saying it, but, instead, he let Castiel’s wrists fall from his grip, and Castiel was suddenly cold where he was no longer touching Dean.

“I’ll text you from the car,” Castiel replied, and Dean’s mouth hooked into a smile.

“Okay,” Dean said, and that word followed Castiel through one last kiss and out the door, down the path to Michael’s car, and into the passenger seat.

If Michael was wondering why Castiel was smiling—as if he would ever doubt what he must assume with his own eyes—then he didn’t ask. Without a word, Michael threw the car in drive, and they pressed forward, hooking a right and heading out toward the highway.

There was going to be a long road in front of them, and not just the one in between Lawrence and Colorado Springs, the closest town with a big enough courthouse from where his father was kept in Florence. Castiel just hoped that they would all together be able to make it through the roadblocks, and to the other side.

Castiel leaned his head back against the seat and, for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

~*~

December third came so quickly. Before Castiel had even really been able to sit down and orient himself to the way his life was about to shift and shatter, it was suddenly Tuesday morning, and he was dressing up nicely to sit in a courtroom and watch his father read off a list of the lives he took. Castiel felt like he barely even had had the chance to take a breath before he and his three elder brothers were taking their seats four rows behind the prosecutor’s desk, the hum of the electricity in the room leaving him on edge.

It hadn’t been easy, once they got to Colorado Springs. Despite the FBI being able to keep them in a location undisclosed to the press, there was no stopping their assault once Victor pulled up to drop them off in front of the courthouse, and Michael was the first one to step out. It had practically been an uphill battle just to make it past all of the questions, Castiel keeping his head down simply to avoid the way the camera flashes made his head spin. Balthazar’s hand had been on Castiel’s shoulder the entire time, steering him forward, grip like iron.

It had dulled down once they got into the courthouse, and once they were pointed in the right direction by one of the agents Victor had put on their detail at their hotel. They only had two minor encounters, and both of the journalists fell back the second Michael said, “No comment.”

And now, there they were. Castiel knew that his father’s confession was going to filmed—the projected number of victims was so high, so many families wondering about their long-missing kin, that it would have been foolish not to—and he knew that those cameras were on them from the moment they took their seats. Castiel leaned over to Michael on his right and asked, “Is this broadcast national?”

“I’m sure,” his brother responded dryly, looking about as exhausted as Castiel felt. Gabriel, on Castiel’s other side, nodded.

“I caved and checked the Internet this morning,” Gabriel informed them, facing the front unwaveringly, like it was he who was facing the death sentence. His hands curled into the arms of the chair tensely. “It’s going to be on most news outlets. Every reporter in here is gonna be tweeting numbers and names and all of that shit. This place is going to be a circus by the end of it.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Balthazar told him calmly from Gabriel’s other side, on the aisle. He, too, couldn’t quite look away from the spot their father would soon be sitting. Castiel nodded, even though none of his brothers may have even noticed, before he faced front, too.

Too soon, always too soon, the clock struck five minutes until go time, and the last of the peanut gallery took their seats. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife and, by the time the prosecuting lawyer entered, Castiel was having trouble breathing.

And then, the side door opened, and Emmanuel Novak, dressed in a suit and handcuffs, strode into the room.

Castiel almost expected him to look different, now. He half expected him to be thinner from the roughness of jail, to have grown a beard or gotten scars on his face from even the other murderers who probably disrespected him and took a swipe. Instead, it was the opposite—there was no difference between the man casually strolling to his empty defense table, eyes scanning the crowd with predatory delight, than the same man Castiel had lived with his entire life. There was no difference between the way Emmanuel Novak was dressed than what he wore to Balthazar’s high school graduation. There was no demonization Castiel half expected to show on his father’s face now that the world knew he was a demon and, somehow, it was almost unsettling. It was like another horrifying reminder that even monsters wear human faces.

Emmanuel’s eyes continued to search the crowd. And then, like he knew, his eyes snapped to Castiel.

Castiel didn’t flinch, didn’t even waver under his father’s steel gaze, not even when Emmanuel’s lips started twitching up into an unreadable smile that could have been pleasure at seeing that his family was there, that his boys had come to see him off the final stage of his righteous mission. Castiel stared back into the eyes everyone had always told him in his life were just the same as his own, and he hated and feared this man so much, but he let none of it show. He felt a familiar mask slide onto his face, rusty from disuse, but still a card in the back of his mind to lend to the best poker face he could ever show. By the way Michael’s whole body tensed beside him, he was sure his brothers must look something similar.

Emmanuel looked at them and looked at them for a long moment before he inclined his head, like an acknowledging hello, and turned back to face the front.

Castiel was suddenly so deliriously relieved that none of his younger siblings were here.

Castiel was the last child over eighteen, the only one who was legally considered an adult, and Castiel had known he would walk through the doors to this courtroom the second he had seen the hearing’s date. Michael had advised him against it, tried to softly convince him to stay home, but folded the second Castiel asserted that he was going to come. Anna and Hael hadn’t necessarily looked crestfallen to know that they couldn’t go, same as Inias, but they also voiced their restlessness at being left behind to stand unseen on the sidelines. However, that was one department in which Michael was unshakable, and Victor had assured them that he would stay with them instead.

Still, Castiel had not forgotten the anxious and fearful look that Anna had shot him right before the door had closed behind him, and he almost wished that his younger siblings wouldn’t have to go through this hell alone.

Although, he also never wanted them to go through it here.

A guard was hovering less than two feet away from Emmanuel as they all waited for the judge to arrive, the prosecutor not even blinking, not even looking at him. Castiel looked at the guard, and his chest compressed in panic as he remembered whispered lessons in the basement, his father’s voice telling him how to take down a man larger than him even incapacitated, seeing it play out in his mind’s eye and terrified of it becoming a reality.

But Emmanuel didn’t move. He just sat at the desk, his hands folded in front of him, patiently waiting. He was facing the jury, but they hadn’t needed to bring in any peers to weigh in a confession. Castiel was almost thankful that no poor civilian would have to look Emmanuel Novak in the eye as he read off a list of names of all of the people whose lives he watched drain from their eyes.

As if Michael could sense what Castiel was thinking, he reached over and squeezed his shoulder hard. Castiel swallowed, not looking at his brother as he retracted his arm, but Castiel had heard him loud and clear. Michael was willing him to be just strong enough for this, to just be able to make it through however long this would be and come out of it in the best possible shape that he could.

They rose when the judge entered, and they sat when he ordered them to. He said some words lost in the adrenaline making Castiel’s head spin, and then Emmanuel Novak was getting to his feet, pulling out some pieces of paper from inside of his jacket, and announcing that he was willing to confess.

Suddenly, irrationally and so strong of a desire that it nearly made Castiel feel sick, he wished that Dean was here.

Emmanuel paused before he began, looking out into the audience at the sons he had never truly been able to control before turning his gaze directly to the camera, and then he began to read.

There were so many names.

So _many_ —time had stopped the moment Emmanuel had started speaking, but Castiel was sure with every minute that passed that he was truly in hell, or that this was a nightmare, and it wasn’t happening. Because there was no way—with every name Emmanuel read, Castiel felt his whole soul hoping it would be the last, and then his father would read another. With every name, with every _minute_ of every two dozen or so names, Castiel felt his stomach keep plummeting, felt Michael’s shoulders tense up. At one point, Gabriel reached up a hand to cover his mouth like he was going to be sick. Balthazar, by then, already had his face buried in his hands, but the names still continued on.

Castiel didn’t bother to count. He knew he would find out the number eventually. And while he knew the number would be high, and he knew that his father had so many years to confess for, he also didn’t expect how long it would take. He hadn’t expected the horror that froze his bones with every minute that ticked by on the clock, and how many of them now had passed and Emmanuel _still hadn’t stopped_.

Castiel had thought so many things, and they were all wrong.

He thought his father had gone on charity trips.

He thought his father had helped the homeless.

He thought his father was even less of a monster than they all knew he was.

And he was wrong. God, was Castiel _wrong_.

It felt like eternity before Emmanuel came to a stop, so many names Castiel had never heard before spinning in his conscious mind, blending into each other to the point he didn’t even know if he was making them up. The relief he felt the moment Emmanuel put the sheets of paper he held down onto the desk, done with his list, was like ecstasy. And then, it came crashing down again, like fate laughing at him for so foolishly thinking his torment was over, when Emmanuel announced, “There is one more, Your Honor.”

And, suddenly, he knew exactly what his father was going to say, and he felt the scream building up in the back of his throat.

“I was never going to speak this name, Your Honor, just this one,” Emmanuel told his captivated audience, as personable as he had been during his sermons, his smile kind humored despite the fact of all he had just confessed, and what he was about to. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I saw my Archangels sitting in the audience, but now, the time is right. I want to confess to my greatest sin, my one murder that was not righteous, but selfish. It was greed and envy that caused it, and not my mission, and I was ashamed of it at once as proud.

“I would like to confess,” his father said, “to the murder of my wife, Daphne Novak.”

The whole

world

stopped.

Castiel couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being crushed by cinderblocks, and he wanted to scream, but instead he stayed frozen, letting the shock and horror and terror show on his face, because there was no way he could school his expression, not for this. Castiel thought, for a moment, that he was going to be sick. He stared at his father, feeling the nausea and disgust burning at the back of his throat, and he remembered the way his mother smiled and didn’t _understand_.

Michael recoiled like the words had been a blow. Gabriel had made a sound like he was choking. Balthazar didn’t look like he was breathing at all, a sickening shade of pale.

Castiel was sure he was going to pass out. He—he felt like he had to do something, have some kind of reaction, some kind of physical representation of the burning in his body, at the way he felt like he was about to be knocked straight off the surface of the earth and into the sun. He felt like—like this couldn’t be it. Like there was no way he could possibly hold in so many years of grief, and simultaneously so many waves of hatred and horror.

Emmanuel didn’t look anywhere but at his sons. Castiel wondered what he thought about their reactions, but his father didn’t look anywhere but at them, expression contorting like he was pleading with them, assuring them of something. Castiel couldn’t look away, wanted to look away, but didn’t, just continued staring.

“She was going to take my children away from me,” Castiel’s father, a man who had murdered much over one hundred and fifty people, pleaded to them, like they would ever forgive him. “She had the plans set, and I only just found out about them in time. I did what I had to do to keep my family together. I acted selfishly, but _I did what I had to do_.”

Their father made sure to look at his eldest sons and tell them, gaze unwavering, “She was only going to take the youngest four. She believed my Archangels to be too contaminated by me, too brainwashed. She didn’t even care about her four eldest sons enough to try to save them. She was willing to let them burn. And I will never forgive her for that.”

Castiel was sure he was going to wake up soon. He had to. He—he couldn’t—

For a moment, the courtroom was silent. Or, at least, it felt like long enough to be a moment—Castiel was feeling a thousand emotions, grief for his mother, horror that his mother wouldn’t have saved the sons she thought were too loyal, sadness that he would have let her go anyway, devastation that she hadn’t been able to rescue the siblings he ended up taking regular beatings to save. It felt like time had stopped, like his whole world didn’t exist, not even now. It felt like it couldn’t be real.

It felt a little bit too much like the truth.

Castiel reached up, slowly, and covered his mouth with both hands so he couldn’t scream.

Emmanuel Novak looked back at the judge, and he smiled.

“That is all, Your Honor,” he said, and sat down.

The judge was barely able to dismiss court before the room erupted into chaos.

~*~

Somehow, they ended up being jostled through crowds, FBI and local law enforcement sticking close around them. People were yelling, screaming. They were angry, and devastated, and they were hysterical. Castiel couldn’t comprehend any of it, almost numb if not for the horrible emotions suffocating him, twisting him from the inside out. He was almost relieved he didn’t bring his phone, because he would not have been able to juggle anything else, already over-stimulated and a thousand things at once.

They ended up in the FBI van, and Victor’s partner was in the front seat, navigating the car fast away from the courthouse. For a long moment, they were all silent, the seconds ticking on like the last pieces of sand falling from an hourglass. The silence was so fragile, like the edge of a precipice, and they were waiting to see who fell off it first.

Castiel turned, slowly, to look at Michael. He was almost terrified to see that there were tears running down his eldest brother’s face.

Michael had always been strongest, the leader. He was the one that kept them all sane and safe, and sacrificed anything he could to make their lives better. He was selfless, and he was the true kind of righteous, the thoughtful and loving kind. He was always a pillar of strength. To see even him, Castiel’s superhero, breaking down, almost made it so much worse.

But there was nothing worse. There was _nothing_ fucking worse than this.

None of them said a word the entire way to the hotel.

The silence was so much worse than screaming.

~*~

When the hotel room door swung open, Anna was standing in the doorway, tears and mascara running down her face, her skin blotched with red and her hair messed up like she had been gripping it into tight fists. She stumbled out into the hallway, letting out a broken sound, and immediately threw her arms around Castiel in the same moment where she began to sob.

“I know,” he told her miserably, reaching up to hold her tight, squeezing so hard. It was only then, his eyes shut so tight he was almost seeing stars and knowing that the rest of his siblings were suffering the same, that Castiel finally let the tears fall, and the relief of them, the acceptance of them, felt like a dam crumbling like the ruins of Rome.

Castiel clung onto his little sister even tighter, his voice shaking as he told her again, “ _I know_ ”, because it was the only thing he had left to say, and it was the only thing that could be said that wasn’t an empty lie.

~*~

Michael gave a press conference. He had apparently originally planned to have most all of the siblings come onto the stage, to present as a united front but, in the news of their mother, knew that it wasn’t as good of an idea anymore.

“If I can save you from anything anymore,” he had told them before he had walked out the door, index cards held in shaking hands, “then I will save you from this.”

They didn’t watch their brother give his statement. Instead, they sat without speaking in a dark hotel room, all of them connected by their shared horrible misery, and just let themselves mourn.

~*~

Castiel would check his phone later, the next day after a fitful sleep when his chest felt just a little less like it could crush him, and he found so many voicemails, text messages. He knew they were from Dean, from his friends, probably all offering condolences for his loss, and he couldn’t read them. He couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t look at them telling him that they were sorry his missing mother is now known to be one of his father’s victims, even if he had assumed it on his own. He couldn’t let it be real like that.

He considered putting the phone away, just turning it off and burying it somewhere in the bottom of his bags. They were packing, separating, and it would be easy for him to ignore the device in the shuffle that was to come. But, instead, he opened the phone and ignored the messages’ contents, didn’t look anywhere but at one name and one name only, not looking at the words Dean had sent him, not knowing how to come to terms with it yet.

He knew Dean would understand, of all people, what it felt like to lose his mother to a serial killer, but he still didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where the hell to begin, staring at a blinking cursor with the letters of the keyboard swimming indecipherably through his head.

He said the only thing he could. He told Dean, _I’ll call you when I can_.

He didn’t know when he would be able to pick up the phone and talk to the one person outside of his family that cared about him so much. He didn’t know what he would be able to say, because this was a similarity the two of them had never wanted to share. Castiel didn’t know what the hell he could possible say to Dean that wouldn’t be choked with tears, even now, when he hadn’t cried for hours, was instead keeping so, so stoic.

Dean’s reply pinged from the phone in his hand, and Castiel opened it immediately.

_I’m always here._

Castiel looked at those three little words, both the wrong and right three words, and hoped it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	15. The Hell Within Him

For the fifth night in a row, Castiel woke up screaming.

Michael was at his side in an instant, hair ruffled and eyes wild, his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and holding him so tight that Castiel could feel the bruises already on his skin, from all of the nights before when Michael had needed to hold him down to keep from hurting himself, the bruises aching at the pressure of Michael’s panic again. Castiel could barely catch his breath, his chest feeling like it was on fire, but he still pushed his eldest brother away with shaking hands. Michael backed off a little, leaning back so he was sitting on the edge of the cot, staring down at Castiel anxiously.

He’d woken up this way every morning since seeing their father again. The nightmares, the ones he had shaken since moving to Kansas and meeting Dean and Charlie and the rest, had returned with a vengeance. Just the thought of returning to Pontiac, returning only to find what remained of the bright spirit that was his mother, had done nothing to soothe his nerves.

Castiel caught his breath, slowly but surely, and moved his gaze from his shaking hands to his elder brother, who was still hovering, watching him. Castiel tried to smile, but his lips didn’t seem to want to move.

“It’s fine,” he assured him, his voice thin and uneven. “I’m alright.”

“Castiel,” Michael murmured, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder, “you know you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Castiel replied determinedly, shrugging off Michael’s hold and sitting up in bed. Michael shuffled back to give him room, face still drawn in anxiety, but Castiel just ignored him, not wanting to look at Michael just to see that he was worried about him. Castiel reached up and rubbed his face, holding back the yawn that threatened to escape. “What time is it?”

“Six,” Michael told him, trying to tamper down his worry, but it still shown in the corners of his eyes. “I was getting ready to wake you anyway.”

“Good timing,” Castiel tried to joke. Michael didn’t laugh, so he didn’t know why he even bothered. “I can be ready in ten.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?”

“Michael,” he said, and that was enough. His brother nodded, the bags under his eyes darker with every passing day, before he heaved himself off of Castiel’s cot, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

“I’ll see you upstairs,” Michael told him, shooting him one last look of concern before he turned and started up the stairs from the basement, the sound of a handful of people moving upstairs already to be heard in the creaking of the wood overhead, in the groan of the linoleum as things were moved around. Castiel stared up at the familiar ceiling, the ceiling of the basement of the church his father once preached to, and he closed his eyes.

The immediate day following his father’s confessions had been nothing other than chaos. They all had barely been able to sleep, too taken by adrenaline and fear, so the older six siblings gathered quietly in one of the rooms to discuss what’s to come next while Inias and Sam slept peacefully in the other, both of them having less memories of their mother, both of them not nearly as devastated as the siblings that remembered her so clearly. The six of them gathered together to discuss what was to come—but, as it turned out, Michael already had a plan.

“I’m going to Pontiac,” he had told them all softly, sleeplessness leaving a slight slur under his words. “I’ve talked to the man who replaced our father at the church, and he’s allowing me to use it as a place to stay, as well as a central command. I’m going to look for her the best I can. Victor talked to Emmanuel, and he told him that she’s still in Pontiac. I’m going to look for her.”

“Alone?” Hael had demanded, already shaken at the realization that they would have to look for their mother’s body, face pale and clutching a blanket to her chest like a shield. “Can we come with you?”

“No,” Michael said before Gabriel said, “Bullshit, Michael, we’re coming.”

“No you’re not,” Michael reinforced, this time more stronger, turning burning eyes on Gabriel. “You and Balthazar are going to take the rest of the kids back, and you’re all going to keep up with your studies. You and Balth have exams, and the kids don’t have winter break for another few weeks. I’ll be damned if I’m letting any of you fall behind because of this.”

“You can’t do that,” Anna objected, but they all knew he could, so there was no real argument to be made. Michael just gave her a long, sad look before looking away, reaching up and rubbing at his face.

“We’ll split up in the morning,” he told them, as if the matter was over, which it wasn’t.

“I want to go with you,” Castiel asserted, some of the first words he had spoken aloud since the courtroom, and he shot Michael a steely glare when his brother tried to interrupt. “I’ve gone through enough to know I can handle this, Michael. I’m eighteen, and you can’t _force_ me to go back to Lawrence. I understand what you mean, not letting the rest of us tackle this—but you also shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’ll come with you.”

“I hate to say it, but it’s not a bad idea,” Balthazar admitted, looking like he was forcefully swallowing a whole lemon. “I understand Anna and the other little ones, and Gabe and I for finals, but Castiel can make his own decisions, Michael. He should be able to decide this.”

Michael looked at Balthazar and then at Castiel like he was burning alive, pursing his lips around what was definitely a firm dismissal. It took a moment of silence before Michael was blowing out an angry breath, closing his eyes.

“Okay,” he finally relented, opening his eyes to put them on Castiel, his eyes hard and stern. “But if you can’t handle it, at any time, you’re to tell me, and you’re going home, do you understand? This is not—this won’t be—”

Michael didn’t need to say it. Castiel nodded and softly told him, “I understand.”

So, in the morning, Michael and Castiel headed to Indiana, and the rest of their siblings went home. And now, there they were—four days into the search, and still with virtually nothing to show for it other than the itching desire to keep searching, and their own sleepless nights.

Castiel reached up and rubbed at his eyes before forcing himself out of bed, blinking away spots over the sudden change to vertical. He fished his phone out from underneath of his pillow and sent Dean a text, as he had every morning, just a simple one: _Good morning, Dean._

Dean’s response came right as Castiel was pulling his gross, sweaty pajama shirt off, buzzing on his bed. _Morning, Cas._

They barely spoke outside of actual phone calls, which alone were few and far between, partially because of their varying schedules and because of Castiel never knowing what to say to anyone anymore. Dean was going with it, letting Castiel come to him when he needed him, or not. Dean never rushed him, and never tried to get him to speak if he didn’t want to.

Castiel would owe Dean so much after this. He already owed him so much, just for giving him a sense of normalcy, but for helping keep him grounded at a time like this—Castiel didn’t ever know how it would be possible to repay another human being for this.

Castiel was willing to spend the rest of his life trying.

He took a deep breath before he pushed the phone in the back pocket of the pair of jeans he’d decided on today, never choosing much nicer fabric—a lot of his searching had brought him and his small group of volunteers, the only people in Pontiac still on the side of the Novak siblings, through brambles and marshlands and patches of forest. He knew today was going to be no different, all of them checking every possible nook and cranny for somewhere something could have been hidden, and his stomach turned at the possibility that today would be the day that they would have to realize how real it was. Castiel shoved that down to deal with later, not even bothering to brush his hair before heading upstairs, where everyone would be congregating for another day.

Castiel squared his shoulders, and threw himself back into the fray.

~*~

The local police, headed by a kind but stern woman named Jody Mills, were a bigger help in the search than Castiel thought they would be, since they were the ones that came with the FBI that night and lead one of the most respected men in their community away for murder. Castiel’s mother wasn’t the only missing Pontiac resident that was on his father’s list, and their searches were pooled together.

Castiel tried not to think about the night that his father came back covered in blood, because now he had a name for the man who’d lost his life to his psychopathic father. Daniel Elkins became his father’s last victim, a man who lived on the outskirts of town, a recluse and an alcoholic that came to their church for the big masses, who always kept his head down. He’d lost his family in one terrible sweep years ago, back when Castiel was little. Emmanuel Novak had picked him because no one would miss him for a long period of time, and he was right—they hadn’t.

Jody Mills, in particular, was the major police presence on the scene every morning that the search parties met up. She was kind to Castiel, even though she had enough reason not to be, and she always greeted him with a smile. She could be serious, though, and fierce—Castiel was able to see that stony serious side of her when they found Elkins’ body on the second day, buried not too far from his home. But he also appreciated her kindness from when she pursued him after the fact, after he went and had what very well might have been a panic attack in a back room of the church, to tell him that no one was going to blame him and that everything was going to be alright.

She lost her son and her husband in a car accident several years ago. She told him that it hurts, and it hurts like hell for much longer than a couple of years, but it’s okay to keep going. It’s okay to keep living.

He was glad that, today, he was in her group.

She grinned at him in greeting as Michael directed him over by the shoulders, nodding wordlessly to Castiel as if telling her to keep an eye on him before disappearing back into the fray. Jody stepped forward and nudged him playfully on the arm, eyes sparkling with wakefulness that was horrifying at six thirty in the morning.

“You get something to eat, kid?” she asked him, looking him up and down like a scolding mother. Something shifted in his chest, something like pain. “You’re looking a little pale. You sleep alright?”

“I’m fine, Sheriff Mills, I promise,” Castiel told her, sending her a small smile in response. He nervously shifted his neon vest, signifying him as part of the searching volunteers, and checked for what felt like the twentieth time to make sure he had a water bottle. “I hope you are well.”

“I’m doin’ good, Castiel, thank you,” she told him as more people were added to the group, loyal members of the church that Castiel had known since he was young. He smiled at them weakly and they smiled back politely. While Castiel and Michael were welcomed back in this town for the search, he could still tell the casual citizens were a little unsure about them, with due reason to be. Castiel couldn’t blame them. He just watched with Jody as Michael got up onto the pulpit where their father once preached and called to their attention, telling them the times they were to return here and reminding them to make sure to keep their walkies handy.

Before long, at just before seven in the morning, Castiel and the rest of his group set off to the plot of land assigned to them to scope, and they spread out as much as they could without missing anything. Jody stuck to one side of Castiel at all times, always throwing him innocent questions to keep him from spiraling down—how was school going, had he applied to any colleges yet, how about his friends back home? To keep from letting thoughts of his mother succumb him practically into madness, he spent a lot of time telling her about Dean, and about the rest of his and Anna’s friends, and how they were much more settled in than he expected they would be. She took an interest to hearing about Dean, mostly so that she could tease him about whatever expression would cross his face when he talked about him, and Castiel didn’t mind taking the time of anxiety to calm down and talk about one of the most important people he had ever known.

They were back to silence, though, when it happened. It was around ten in the morning by then, the sun starting to warm up the chilled morning of a mild Midwest winter. The walkie-talkie gave out a small burst of static from Jody’s hip, and she reached down to turn up the volume at the same Michael’s voice came through.

“Alright, everyone. Return to base.”

Castiel looked over, stopping in his tracks. Jody stopped too, frowning, and looked at him, but another voice was already coming over on the channel, the voice of one of the other police officers offering their time to the search.

“It’s only ten o’clock,” the officer said, sounding confused. “We’ve got time before the lunchtime meet-up.”

There was a momentary silence, a horrible silence, before Michael replied, “It’s over. We found her.”

Castiel didn’t really remember the walk back, or whatever Jody must have been saying to him when they walked, her whispered voice just a distant hum and her hand on his back practically phantom. Castiel didn’t really do much but wander until they turned onto the street that lead to the church, and he saw Michael standing out front of it. His brother’s eyes were bloodshot, his face pale, and his eyes snapped to Castiel’s like he sensed his little brother’s approach. Castiel took one look at Michael and it finally brought him to reality.

Finally, finally, the tears came and, when they did, they felt deserved.

Castiel had been so strong for so long. He’d taken care of his family without giving care for himself, and he had saved his siblings the best he could from the worst period of their life. He had let it go on too long, but he hadn’t hesitated to call for help when he knew it had gone too far.

They’d been suffering for so long. They’d had so many questions for so long. And now, it felt like one chapter was coming to a close.

They had their closure. They knew what happened to their mom. After so, so long, they knew what happened to Daphne Novak, and they would at least be able to bury her knowing that she would be somewhere safe, somewhere they knew where to find her if they needed her.

It was over. It was finally over.

Castiel and Michael met halfway, and Michael threw his arms around Castiel as soon as they were close enough, and Castiel leaned into the embrace, trying so hard to breathe. Michael crushed him a little harder, holding on as tight as he could, and Castiel felt his big brother’s head lean on his when Michael softly whispered, “I know. I know. It’s over.”

It was over. And, somehow, that still hurt.

~*~

Michael called Gabriel two hours later and told him first. Gabriel went quiet for a long, long time, like he didn’t know what to say, or like he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe, in a way, he didn’t. Maybe, he hadn’t really expected for them to find their mother; maybe he expected their father to be lying, and for her to be alive and well and to get a happily ever after, but that wasn’t the way it turned out, because their luck was never that nice. Gabriel was silent for a moment, and then he was cursing loudly, and Michael and Castiel heard his voice break in his shouting just before the line went dead.

Balthazar, in comparison, reacted much better. He also went quiet, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t really do much of anything, internalizing it the way Balth always did, and he told Michael he would go get the kids out of school and get everyone ready to leave. He hung up, like the eerie silence before a storm, and Michael put his head in his hands.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed, his voice still muffled, defeated, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “ _Fuck_.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He knew he couldn’t make it better, and he knew that he didn’t have the words to offer comfort, so he just sat there with his brother as Michael tried to keep balancing the whole world on his shoulders, struggling with the weight, and hoped his presence would be good enough.

Castiel didn’t tell Dean until two more hours after all of his siblings had been pulled out of school, and were told. He knew that Dean would know what to say to him, knew Dean would never judge him, and, somehow, that almost made it worse. It made it real, and reality was never kind.

Castiel, eventually, was able to escape back down to the basement of the church, hands shaking. Michael had seen him go, and hadn’t made a move to stop him. He even shook his head at Jody when it looked like she was about to follow, and she hung back, frowning concernedly. Castiel nearly tripped down the stairs, his head spinning like he was holding his breath—he realized, belatedly, that he was, and he gasped in air like he was drowning.

He collapsed onto his bed, his knees too weak to keep him up, and he pulled out his phone.

It took three tries but, eventually, he got the number right.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answered cheerfully. “How are you doing, baby?”

And because Castiel didn’t have the energy to beat around the bush, or to work up to it, Castiel told him, “We found her.”

From the other side, Dean took a long deep breath. Castiel heard Sam’s voice softly in the background, asking if he was okay, but Dean didn’t respond to him, didn’t move his attention away from the phone. Castiel was a little grateful that for now they could pretend that only they exist in their little world, in this little bubble. Castiel just needed someone to keep him afloat, and he needed Dean to be that person more than he could understand.

He had faith in Dean. He loved Dean. Really, in almost a twisted way, he was the one person that mattered the most in this whole thing.

So it meant more than what it sounded like face value when Dean whispered, “Jesus, Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“I,” Castiel started, but didn’t know how to continue, so he paused. “I don’t know why this feels surprising. Everyone knew this was going to happen. It’s the whole reason Michael and I are here to begin with. And my mother—she’s been missing for about seven years. We’d given up a lot of hope at her being out in the world. Her disappearance was partially the reason why some of my brothers got as far away from Pontiac as they could.”

“Thinking it’s true and _knowing_ are two different things,” Dean reminded him softly, sympathetically. He sounded like he was dying to have the ability to reach through the phone and pull Castiel into his arms. Castiel wished it was possible so much that it nearly took his breath away. “It doesn’t feel real. And then it does.”

“Exactly,” Castiel said, breathing a little easier now that he knew it wasn’t just his own imagination. He closed his eyes. “God, Dean, I don’t know if I can do this. I’m hiding in the basement right now. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to face my siblings when they get here.”

“You’ll be okay, Cas, even if it’s going to be hard,” Dean assured him softly, confidently. “You love your family and they love you, and you’re all there for each other. You guys are strong, and you’ll make it through. I believe in you. I know you can make it through this, even if it’s hard, because you’re going to have the support of everyone who cares about you.”

“I miss you,” Castiel blurted out, not what he meant to say, but unable to keep it down anymore. He closed his eyes, clutched at the material over his heart like he could reach through, rip it out of his chest. “I miss you so much it hurts. I want to be back in Lawrence. I want all of this to be over.”

Dean sounded almost the most vulnerable Castiel had ever heard him when he murmured back, “I know, baby, I know. I miss you, too. I miss you so fucking much. I’ll be here when you get back, okay? I’ll always be here for you.”

“I know,” Castiel murmured back, biting his cheek hard. “I have to go back upstairs. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean told him softly. “Bye, Cas.”

“Bye, Dean,” Castiel whispered so softly even he could barely hear it, and hung up.

Michael found him still sitting there about ten minutes later, coming down there to check up on him. Castiel looked up from where he had been staring at his phone when he heard the steps on the stairs, and Michael caught his eye as he appeared. He smiled, looking as haggard as Castiel was sure he also looked. Castiel smiled back.

“You okay?” he asked. It was such a loaded question that Castiel almost didn’t want to answer it.

“Been better,” he told his brother honestly instead, pushing himself off of the cot and rolling his shoulders. He caught Michael’s gaze dropping down to the phone he was still clutching in his hand like a lifeline, and he tightened his hold. “I called Dean,” he explained like he owed Michael an explanation at all. Michael nodded pleasantly, his hands tucked behind his back.

“He’s a good kid,” Michael commented mildly, tilting his head to the side. “I think he’s good for you. You seem to care a lot about him.”

Castiel nodded slowly, avoiding his brother’s gaze.

“Good,” Michael told him, and then turned away. “I can tell he cares about you, too. I’m happy for you both.”

Castiel nodded again, because he had no idea what the hell to say to that, or why Michael thought that standing in a church basement after finding their mother’s body was a good time to tell Castiel that he approved of his relationship. Michael glanced at Castiel, and then glanced around the room again, before he nodded to himself.

“In a time like this, I’m glad you have him,” Michael said, and then he wandered back upstairs without another word, leaving Castiel staring after him, wondering what that meant.

Castiel tucked his phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath before getting up and following behind his brother, getting back out to face the chaos that had become his life, feeling just enough better knowing that Dean will always be a phone call away if Castiel needed him.

Castiel squared his shoulders, and braved on.

~*~

“Your tie is crooked,” Hael whispered to him from the cot next to him, aqua eyes wide and sad. Castiel glanced down and looked at it, his fumbling fingers and his vacant stare having done him no favors, apparently, because he didn’t know how the hell he managed to mess it up that badly. He nodded to her in thanks and reached up to try to fix it, but his hands were still shaking.

It was only little more than a week since they had been in Colorado Springs, watching a courtroom for their father to immerge. It was the next Wednesday in the line of a thousand other Wednesdays that would follow, but Castiel could have sworn a year had passed in the place of a week.

Castiel couldn’t get his fingers to stop shaking. He tugged at the tie angrily but, of course, that did nothing to help him.

Hands appeared, covering his. Castiel looked up to find Anna standing in front of him, her eyes on the tie as she carefully tied it together, threading the material and straightening it on Castiel’s chest, tightening it just enough. She looked up and met his eyes, smiling sadly to him before patting his shoulder and moving away, heading back to where Inias was fussing helplessly with his hair. Samandriel sat next to Castiel, understanding enough about the situation to be grim, such a strange attitude for the rambunctious child that it unsettled Castiel. Samandriel might have been too young to remember their mother, but he still knew what she meant. He still knew that this was a sad time, and he was sad because his siblings were sad. It practically broke Castiel’s heart.

He reached over and smoothed his hand over the top of Sammy’s hair, smoothing down a cowlick that never failed to immediately spring back up. Sammy looked up at him, big brown eyes wide, and smiled.

Castiel managed to smile back reassuringly, squeezing his kid brother’s shoulder before dropping his hand. Castiel caught Hael watching them and she offered him the same sad little smile. He took a deep breath and curled his hands into fists to keep from pulling at the tie nervously, glancing over to where Balthazar was sitting in a folding chair, a bottle of vodka in his hand that he hadn’t yet taken a sip out of, staring up at the ceiling. Gabriel, meanwhile, was in the chair next to him, working his way through his second pack of fun-sized Kit-Kats.

There was the sound of two pairs of footsteps on the stairs, and all of them turned to find Michael and Victor appear at the bottom, Michael looking somber in his best suit, Victor’s face empathetic, wearing his work suit. He nodded in greeting to them, and most of them nodded back. Victor had been a good ally to have in this uphill fight. Castiel was grateful for everything the man had done for his family, and was pleased to see that he was here for this.

It was Victor that, without having to be asked, got into meet Emmanuel the same day as his courthouse confession and wrangled the location of their mother from him. Victor has been a good ally—a good friend. Castiel hoped that, one day, he would have the right words to thank him.

“It’s time,” Michael announced calmly, his hands clasped in front of him.

Balthazar set down the untouched bottle and got to his feet, but Gabriel started moving while still shoving as much chocolate into his mouth that he could without choking. Like a reflex, Inias reached out for Samandriel’s hand, and Sam took it. Hael took his other one, and they started for the stairs.

Castiel looked over and met Anna’s eyes. She immediately walked over to him and stood by his side, both of them the same unmovable force that they always had been. While their siblings started to plunder up the stairs, Victor and Michael hanging back like they wanted to make sure everyone actually went, Castiel and Anna just looked at each other, communicating silently the way they had been able to since they were children, so close in age and in spirit, best friends since the playpen.

Castiel reached out at the same time she did, and they took each other’s hands, both of them needing the support, both of them needing someone to hold onto. Castiel remembered the thousand other times Anna and him had done this move—Anna’s first day of kindergarten, the time Castiel set off in a vengeance to take care of her schoolhouse bully, their first time back to church when their mother disappeared, and when they watched their father be led off in handcuffs.

Anna was always there for him when he needed her to be, and he was always there for her when she needed him.

Castiel was glad that at least they wouldn’t have to feel like they were going into this alone.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back even tighter. Together, they stepped toward the stairs, taking step after step to the inevitable, to the funeral of their mother that they had all secretly hoped they would never have to attend—and, together, they kept going forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	16. Majestic Though In Ruin

Castiel wasn’t sure when it started to rain.

It hadn’t been raining when he left, he was sure of that. It hadn’t been sunny, instead a dull gray overcast, but he knew for a fact that his brothers would have never let him walk out the front door if it was raining, no matter how distracted they too might be. Castiel remembered starting to walk, just letting his feet carry him as he took a deep breath of fresh air and let the silence calm his heartbeat, and then they next thing he knew he was wet and freezing, his teeth chattering and his fingertips going numb as he kept moving forward, rain falling into his eyes until he could barely see where he was going. Castiel just kept walking, kept moving, even though he knew he should probably turn back.

He was sick of going backwards. He wanted to keep moving. With his life, with everything. He was so fucking sick of looking back.

He didn’t really know how long he walked—long enough that he was dripping wet, soaked and freezing to the bone, when he recognized a familiar street, and his heartbeat picked up into a stutteringly fast rhythm.

Castiel turned up the familiar drive, walked up the two steps of the porch. He shook his head, shook off some of the water, before he reached up with a shaking and shivering hand to knock on the front door. He didn’t wait longer than fifteen seconds before the door flew open, and Dean was standing on the other side, wide-eyed.

“Cas?” he demanded, like he wasn’t sure, his eyes going up and down his body. “Holy shit, Cas, did you walk here? Why didn’t you call me for a ride? It’s pouring down rain.”

He said it like Castiel absolutely hadn’t noticed it was raining outside. He almost wanted to laugh, but didn’t.

“I was walking,” Castiel said lamely, “and I guess I just walked here.”

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice shifting from frantic to sad and, in an instant, he was closing the space in between them and throwing his arms around Castiel, his grip so tight that it felt like Castiel’s rib cage would crush, and he almost hoped it would. His knees gave out a little and Castiel reached back, gripping onto Dean as it became too much and, between one second and into the next, Castiel felt the tears he had been biting back for so long overflow, and he was swallowing a sob against where he buried his head in Dean’s chest.

Castiel was so, so tired. He’d been through hell and back. And yet, there was still a reason in his life for him to walk so many miles in the cold and rain, and it was the only thing that was keeping him from shattering into a thousand pieces.

Dean hung onto him, and didn’t let him go. His grip tightened when Castiel shook with the first sob, his hands tightening into Castiel’s shirt in a way that would have been painful if he wasn’t so numb.

“Oh, baby,” Dean murmured, so sad that Castiel was sad, and he softly ushered him into the house without letting him go, closing and locking the front door. For a moment, they just stood in the front entry, clinging to each other because it felt like, if Castiel let go, he would be dragged back to sea, and Dean was gripping onto him like he thought that, too.

Castiel was just so tired. He just wanted to give into the dark and just let it drag him into nothingness. But Dean—he was the light guiding the ship away from the rocks. He was the one keeping him afloat, keeping him from letting himself drown.

Dean was worth walking half a dozen miles in the cold and rain. Dean was worth walking through and past all of the bad, even if it hurt so much he didn’t want to.

Castiel clung to Dean a little harder, and he wondered if it was possible to love another human being as much as he loved Dean Winchester.

Dean reached up and ran his hand through Castiel’s hair softly, cradling his head in his hands like it was something so precious. Castiel shuttered, a bright pain sparking in his chest at the thought that this perfect being before him thought that he was something to be treasured.

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to his forehead, still holding onto him, and whispered, “I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It hurts,” Castiel whispered without even wanting to, his voice shaking. “I—I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”

Dean made a sound like the statement hurt him just as much, and he held him a little harder.

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes, huh?” Dean murmured, pulling back enough to look Castiel in the eye, his hands still gripping Castiel’s forearms. He tried to hook his lips into a smile when he saw the devastation that Castiel wasn’t trying to hide anymore, but he fell short, too sad. He leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I don’t want you to get sick, huh? Gettin’ all snotty ain’t gonna help you feel better.”

Castiel nodded mechanically, eyes stinging with the effort of trying to push it all back in, to try to put on the brave face that was finally, finally crumbling to the ground. Dean’s face fell, and he scooped Castiel back up into a tight hug, holding on so tight Castiel knew he would bruise.

“God, Cas, I’m so sorry,” Dean murmured against his hair, his hands shaking on his back. “Come on, let’s go get you into some warm clothes. Come on.”

Castiel followed Dean’s hands as he guided him up the stairs and into the bedroom that must be his, closing the door behind him with a solid, unquestionable click. Castiel didn’t even really have the time to look around and appreciate Dean’s room before Dean was rushing around, reaching into drawers and pulling out clothes, shoving them into Castiel’s arms. Castiel glanced down at them, almost startled.

“Change into these,” Dean told him, nudging him toward the bathroom just off from his room. It had another door on the opposite side, where it must connect to Sam’s. Dean ducked in and locked that door, grabbing the blue towel from the rack next to the red one. “You can dry off your hair, too. I’m gonna be in my room, alright?”

Castiel nodded. Dean kissed him again on the forehead, lingering for a moment too long, before ducking back out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and leaving Castiel back in a sudden silence.

Castiel placed the clothes on the counter slowly, pausing before examining them. Dean had given him a pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts, a ratty gray one with engine oil stains. Castiel touched the soft cotton, smiling to himself at how _Dean_ it was. He barely even blinked at the boxers that Dean had also offered him, as well as the socks, knowing that nothing of his clothing would be salvageable. Castiel held up the wool socks and couldn’t help but the smile a little, his heart swelling just a little bit at how thoughtful Dean was, and how much he couldn’t believe that he had him.

Wet clothing was unpleasant, to say the least. Castiel regretting wearing jeans the second he tried to pull them off, but they just clung to him like a second skin. When he finally managed to tug them off, somehow managing to not fall over, he slid on the new clothes, hanging the wet ones up around the tub, and he had the thought to unlock Sam’s bathroom door before he turned to face Dean’s, taking one big deep breath, the empty hollow of his chest painfully craving Dean’s comfort and his selflessness, needing to take and take and give another day, because he didn’t have the energy to do it today. Castiel needed Dean more than he had ever relied on another human being in years, and he wasn’t even afraid of why anymore.

Castiel inched open the door and peeked into the room. Dean looked up from where he had been sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands, and got to his feet. He smiled a little, shyly, like he didn’t want to spook a wild animal.

“Hey,” he murmured, his eyes going soft around the edges in a reassuring smile, and it warmed Castiel enough that he managed a small smile back.

“Hi,” Castiel whispered back, glancing around the room. Posters and pictures. About what he expected. He smiled a little wider when he spotted one of Dean and Charlie during one of their LARPs. “I’m sorry about just turning up here like that. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even think I have my phone.”

“Don’t apologize, Cas,” Dean chastised him, frowning. “I told you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“I know,” Castiel whispered, loving him so much, and stepped forward so he could drag Dean down onto his bed, curling around him. Dean laughed before allowing Castiel to cling to him, twisting his arm and pulling a blanket over them. Castiel let out a happy sigh and snuggled closer, slipping his hands underneath the back of Dean’s shirt, letting his fingertips skate across skin.

Dean kissed the top of his head. “What do you need me to do?” Dean murmured like a secret, running his hands up and down Castiel’s back. Castiel shook his head and burrowed closer, burying his head in Dean’s chest.

“Just stay,” Castiel whispered, voice muffled against Dean’s shirt. He wasn’t even sure if he heard him but, even if he didn’t, Dean understood—his arms tightened more surely around him, his hand curling into his shirt while the other one heated against skin, and Castiel let out another content sigh, relaxing under the hold, feeling so safe and loving Dean and being so thankful to be in his arms and here and safe and loved.

He had missed Dean so much. He hadn’t realized how much he needed him, and how it was in the best possible way.

Castiel nuzzled into Dean’s chest. Dean made a sound that rumbled in his chest.

 _I love you_ , Castiel pressed soundlessly against Dean’s chest, letting his eyes slide shut and let the exhaustion take him, knowing that he would be okay for now, and he let the feeling of safety ease him into a sleep that, even at its worst, could only ever be better than the sleep he has known.

~*~

Castiel woke up to the sound of voices drifted through the doorway and, for a disoriented moment, he had no idea where he was. And then awareness returned and he remembered where he had wandered on his walk at the edge of a mental break, and Castiel forced his eyes to open, his brain filled like a fog, tiredness still threatening to pull him under. He blinked through the darkness, rain still pounding steadily against the windows, the only source of light coming from where the bedroom door was cracked open, the light from the hallway a sliver in the floor.

From the hallway, Dean softly said, in a voice close to begging, “C’mon, Bobby, just one night. I swear we’ll do nothing but sleep. He just needs a break.”

“I trust you,” Bobby answered back almost reluctantly, “but tomorrow’s a school day, boy. I don’t know how I feel about you missing this much class.”

“I know, and I get that,” Dean relented like it pained him to actually admit it, “but this is big, Bobby. I think he really needs to be with someone who isn’t his family right now, and it’s just one more day. I swear I’ll go every day for the rest of this year if you just let me stay back with him for one day.”

Bobby was quiet for a minute, probably staring Dean down in that intense, no-nonsense way that the older man did, before he said slowly, “Okay. You stay there with him. He needs you for this. It can’t be easy.”

Dean was quiet.

“Guess I don’t have to pretend we don’t have a bit of an idea about that, huh?” Bobby asked, and Castiel glanced away from the door like the guilt was too much. “I know you care about him, and he cares about you just as much. If anyone can get him through this, it’s you.”

“Shucks, Bobby,” Dean said with that tone, that one that’s a little self-deprecating and the indication that all mushy talk will be suspended until further notice, and Bobby had the grace to at least let out a bit of a sigh instead of trying to change the course.

“No funny business, you hear me? Not under my roof, and especially not when I might be able to hear something I would prefer to never.”

“Jesus, Bobby,” Dean muttered, embarrassed. There was the rustle of fabric, and Castiel could imagine Dean shifting his weight uneasily, avoiding Bobby’s gaze and pretending like his face wasn’t heating up. Bobby let out a laugh like seeing Dean squirm had been the goal of the whole conversation, and there was a sound like the man thumping Dean on the shoulder before footsteps creaked away, back toward the stairs.

“You’re a good kid, Dean,” Bobby left behind, not pausing, and probably not looking back, but the smile was in his voice when he said, “and damn if that boy in there doesn’t know that.”

Dean didn’t say anything, and didn’t walk into the room even when the sound of cabinet doors closing and the television turning on downstairs echoed up, faintly but there. Castiel shifted, rubbing the rest of the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up enough to pull his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. By the time Dean finally slid back into the room, glancing back at him as he pulled the door shut, Castiel was looking down at the bed, a funny feeling of a guilt he didn’t understand in his stomach.

Dean smiled, and Castiel saw it from the edge of his vision. It was a worried smile. Castiel forced his eyes up off the bed, to Dean, who smiled just a bit more around the eyes when he did.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Dean teased him lightly, flicking on a lamp by the bed before continuing on his way over, his socked feet swishing against the wooden floors. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Castiel but not making a move to touch him. “I called Michael earlier, to tell him you were here. He says it’s alright if you wanna stay the night, and that you don’t have to go to school in the morning. I was thinking we pull a skip day and just relax, what do you think?”

Castiel nodded slowly. Dean smiled, and reached out to touch his face like he was nervous.

“You hungry?” Dean continued to question lightly. “I could make burgers. You want a water? You walked all the way over here, you must be exhausted. Do you want me to—?”

“Dean.” Castiel said one word, just one word softly in the wake of Dean’s worry, but it was enough to immediately quiet Dean, his smile turning from worried and calm and into something a little more self-conscious. Castiel leaned his head sideways on his knees, hooking his lips up to smile. “You don’t have to mother me. I’m okay.”

“I know,” Dean told him, immediately shifting on the bed like Castiel’s coherency was all the permission he needed, and he barely hesitated before moving so close to Castiel that their legs were touching. Dean reached out and ran his hands soothingly up and down Castiel’s arms, an embarrassed little smile blooming. “I know, I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you so sad.”

Castiel smiled, suddenly feeling a little bashful, and reached out to catch Dean’s hands with his, squeezing reassuringly. “I know you do. And I hate seeing you so worried. So maybe we should take a break from that, huh? Just for a little bit?”

Dean nodded, a fondness like a big smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and his hands squeezed back, his thumbs rubbing soothingly over Castiel’s knuckles in a way he probably didn’t even realize he was doing. It made Castiel smile.

“I heard you talking to Bobby,” Castiel confessed, and Dean grimaced.

“Yikes. Sorry. Did we wake you?”

Castiel shrugged, because he wasn’t really sure. “How long was I out?”

“Couple of hours,” Dean said, and then grinned. “Can’t say for sure, since I passed out with you for a bit. Woke up just long enough to call Michael, and then fight Sam off with a broom when he found out you were in the house.”

Castiel laughed, and Dean’s smile was so filled with joy that it nearly took his breath away.

“Anna got on the line when I called your house, too,” Dean said, but this elicited an eye-roll, and Castiel knew that could mean nothing good. “She warned me against ‘soiling your honor’, I think she put it, and then almost immediately reopened the debate with Gabriel about your virginity.”

Castiel sighed heavily, but it felt good to know that his siblings were starting to shift back to joking and laughing, that they were moving on from the hurt the only way that they could. And if it involved intensive discussions about his virginity, then he supposed he was willing to make that sacrifice, no matter how cripplingly embarrassing it is to know it’s something his siblings actually discuss even when he isn’t there.

“Dean, I have a confession to make,” Castiel told him soberly, wanting to set the record straight. Dean raised his eyebrows, knowing what he was getting at, and seemingly tried to smother his grin. Castiel waited a dramatic pause before he finally confessed, “I’m a virgin.”

Dean waited. And waited.

“No way,” his boyfriend stated flatly.

“Way,” Castiel replied, laughing, caught off guard by Dean’s response. “Dean, are you _offended_ right now?”

“Hell yes I am,” Dean told him, indeed looking fairly offended. “I can’t believe—you can’t be a virgin! It’s impossible! I mean, look at you!”

Castiel glanced down. He couldn’t really get a good angle of himself from his vantage point, but he was still wearing Dean’s pajamas, and his hair probably looked even more of a mess than usual from their nap. Castiel raised an eyebrow. Dean just continued gaping at him, opening and closing his mouth like he couldn’t quite settle on the first argument he wanted to make of his incredulity.

“You’re gorgeous!” Dean ended up blurting, and then turning red, like he almost couldn’t believe that he had said it out loud. “I-I mean—no, you know what, that’s exactly what I mean, and I can’t believe—you _can’t_ be—are you lying to me?”

“No,” Castiel told him sincerely, almost amused at how incredulous Dean was. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you’re amazing,” Dean said, and then looked even mortified than when he had told Castiel he was gorgeous, this time looking away and not even being able to meet his eyes. It felt like Castiel kept getting lighter and lighter, something like delight and euphoria completely overcoming him. His heart was beating too fast, and he couldn’t breathe, like he was suffocating on happiness, and he wouldn’t mind letting it consume him.

“You’re amazing, too, Dean,” Castiel murmured softly in the space between them. He nudged his boyfriend playfully, the contact making his skin feel like he was on fire. “I’d even go as far as to saying you’re _awesome_.”

Dean laughed, startled and a little choked, his eyes shining with emotions that Castiel couldn’t make sense of, Dean nudging him back just as softly. “And that’s the highest of all honors,” Dean teased, his head tilting so he could rest his cheek on top of his knees. Castiel’s heart hurt, because it was painfully adorable, but he beamed at him anyway, letting them settle into a companionable silence that they never needed to explain away.

Castiel looked at Dean, looked at his mussed hair and the way it was like his smile couldn’t possibly relax and at the way his eyes danced in the dim lamplight, and he knew he was going to tell him, knew that he couldn’t keep the secret buried down anymore like it was a secret he was ashamed of.

“I love you.”

Castiel blinked, slowly, because those were _his_ words, but they had come out of _Dean’s_ mouth. He stared, taken aback, as Dean turned pink, but he didn’t look away, his eyes on Castiel even as the embarrassed smile graced just the corners of his lips.

“I know now might not be the right time to say it, with everything that’s going on, and you don’t have to say it back,” Dean assured him calmly, softly, like a breakable secret, like he was handing Castiel his heart and he half expected him to rip it apart. “That’s okay—you don’t have to. But I do. Love you. I have for a while now. And I just wanted you to know that. I love you, and I want you to be okay and happy, and sometimes seeing you smile makes me so happy my chest hurts, and seeing you cry breaks my heart, and I just—yeah. I just needed to say it. I couldn’t keep looking at you and not say it, because it’s killing me, and I just—I needed you to know.”

Castiel stared, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute, not feeling like he was fathoming a moment of what had happened. Dean’s cheeks were pink and he was still curled up in on himself like he was bracing for impact, but he was also still smiling that smile that Castiel loved, and his eyes on Castiel were soft and—and _loving_ —and—

And Castiel was so intensely relieved he didn’t have to be the brave one this time, so unexpectedly _grateful_ that Dean had crossed that line for him when Castiel almost felt like he didn’t deserve to, that he knew that he would walk through a thousand storms if it meant that, eventually, he would be able to walk into Dean’s arms.

“I love you,” Castiel said, his voice shakier than he expected, and he swallowed hard. “Of course I do. Of course I always have.”

Dean nodded, slowly, and then he laughed breathlessly, elation no longer tethered down. Castiel smiled back at Dean, feeling a thousand emotions of his face of everything he hadn’t allowed him to feel until Dean Winchester took his life and turned it upside down, until he somehow without meaning to took hold of Castiel and turned him into everything he had always been that his father had never allowed, until Dean taught him without words that being himself was the only person that he should ever feel the need to be.

Dean Winchester took him, broken into pieces, and carefully crafted him back together. And, together, they made something extraordinary.

If Castiel was another person, he may have reacted with more emotion. It would have been more like a movie, with tears and kissing and a dramatic swell of music as the camera pans away, but it wasn’t, and that was okay. He and Dean always had their own language, their own way of operating, and they didn’t have to surge forward into a kiss. They didn’t have to have tears or dramatics. They looked at each other, and they knew it was forever, and that was the best promise they would ever need.

They didn’t need the rest. They had each other. And if that wasn’t the greatest thing, then Castiel didn’t know what was.

They sat there smiling at each other for a while, probably longer than most people would, but they never needed words. After a while, when it felt like Castiel’s heart would launch itself out of his chest, Dean shifted, reaching forward and pulling Castiel to his chest as he maneuvered them to lay down, reaching with one hand to turn off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. They didn’t have to say a word as they slipped under the sheets and Castiel pressed his face into Dean’s chest and wound his arms around his waist, and Dean ran one of his hands through Castiel’s hair and the other down his back, his lips pressing a kiss onto his forehead. They laid there without needing to say a word for a long enough time that, by the moment where Castiel wanted to speak, he wasn’t entirely sure if Dean was awake.

Castiel pressed his head into Dean’s chest, listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat, before murmuring, “Dean?”

“Hmm?” Dean replied, running his hand through Castiel’s hair again, like an acknowledgment. Castiel hesitated, his question so silly, but he couldn’t help but to let the uncertainty that had been forced into him by his father start to hover on the surface, making him doubt.

“What now?” Castiel asked softly and, somehow, saying it out loud to Dean made it feel like so much less of a silly question. Dean hummed in his chest, leaning to kiss Castiel on the forehead again, before answering.

“Well,” Dean began slowly, his voice like a mumble. “We’re going to go to sleep, and then we’re going to wake up later than we usually would. I’m gonna make you breakfast, and then we’re going to watch _Parks_ like you promised. After that, we’re gonna get in the Impala and drive around and stop where we want and just not worry about anything for a few hours. Just you and me. Does that sound good?”

And Castiel, not sure he could trust his voice, just nodded.

“Okay,” Dean whispered, and curled a little tighter around Castiel. “Night, Cas. Love you.”

Even though Dean couldn’t see his face, Castiel smiled, unable to help it. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s clothed chest, the only place he could reach, and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Dean. I love you too.”

And Castiel let the crashing waves of Dean’s heartbeat carry him back to shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Realized some of that original memo did sound like this was the last chapter, whoops! Don't update stories with a fever, kids. You will say things that sound one way, even though you didn't mean it to. This story's still got a couple more chapters to wrap it all up, and then an epilogue :) Once I know how many, I'll post it both on Tumblr and up in the story info box thing. Toodles!
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	17. Neither Man Nor Angel

Castiel figured that, all things considered, his first day back at school was not going as badly as it could.

It was obviously tense at times, though awkward at most. Castiel had only been through about half of one class so far, therefore barely making a dent in his typical school day, but there was still oddness within the school, kind of like that feeling of not knowing what to do with one’s hands. Although his sisters had continued attending class after the trial, while he and Michael had been conducting and participating in search parties in Illinois, Castiel felt that it was his return specifically that rocked the boat, and he only had ideas as to why.

Castiel figured it might tie back to his likeness to Emmanuel, how much easier it would be for others to look and his sisters and discount or ignore their connection to the man—however, there was no sense of that escape when it came to Castiel, so stark in his father’s image that he sometimes still cannot look in the mirror at himself. But it may also stem from more—Castiel was more than well aware at how wide the media coverage for both the trial and the search (and, by extension, but on a thankfully lesser extent, the funeral) had reached, so he had no real knowledge of what his classmates may have seen in the past several days. He figured it must have been enough, and that even those who had wanted to avoid the news to allow him and his family privacy had not been able to avoid the onslaught that had followed his father’s confession.

That knowledge and universal acceptance that everyone knew what had happened, too entirely aware of the events in Castiel’s life that should have been private, was lingering unsaid in every moment Castiel spent in this school building. Castiel could see it in how no one would look him in the eye, how his peers went out of their way to allow for space between them and Castiel during the rush in the hallway before the first bell.

He was, in a way, ostracized. He was a pariah here, at least for the moment. He had expected that.

What Castiel had not expected was that this avoidance stemmed from pity and sympathy, and not from fear.

The way the students looked at him was nervous, sure, but also sad. They were once afraid and wary of him, but sometime within the months he and his family had been here, the people around them had stopped feeling that way and began allowing themselves to see Castiel and his family as human. Now, despite the admissions of his father, they felt instead toward the loss of his mother. They did not approach him because they do not know what to say to those in mourning.

The shift, in a way, was fascinating. But, to Castiel, he simply just wanted to return to as normal as he could be, and to keep moving on.

Standing among his peers was just another reminder that Castiel still did not fully belong. It was another reminder that he had been through things that his peers could not imagine, and he was different.

The reminder was exhausting.

Castiel spent the majority of his first class, Calculus, silent and seated beside Charlie, who kept glancing over at him like she wanted to say something, eyes troubled, but side-stepping him as much as their other peers. Castiel tried to offer her a reassuring smile when he noticed her watching him, but it did not seem to give her much comfort.

The moment the bell rang in dismissal, cutting off the teacher’s dull droning of mathematical equations and theories, Charlie was next to Castiel, grinning as though she hadn’t been holding her tongue all class. Castiel, too tired to pretend as though he didn’t know what she was thinking, offered her a small smile.

“Good morning, Charlie,” Castiel greeted first, taking the initiative, ripping off the band-aid with his own hands. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, and did not ask it back, a telling strategy. Instead, she went for lighthearted, wagging her eyebrows suggestively. “So, you and Dean were missing yesterday. Anything you want to tell your best of all best friends?”

“It was none of that,” Castiel dismissed her with a much-needed laugh, leading the way out of the classroom, holding the door open for her. She skipped past him with a chipper thanks, joining him in the hallway where, like a choreographed move, the students already began to give him a decent-sized berth. Castiel pretended not to notice, but Charlie’s smile dropped just a little, like it surprised her. “I needed a little break from reality, and Dean offered to keep me company. He made me watch that show you two always talk about.”

Charlie’s grin rejuvenated. “ _Parks and Rec_? Yeah, he mentioned that this morning. He said you liked it, so don’t try to pretend like you didn’t.”

“It was quirky and enjoyable,” Castiel admitted, not willing to admit that the main reason he enjoyed it was because Dean loved it so much, his boyfriend’s face lighting up with a bright grin and a big laugh at every joke he found funny. There was nothing quite like the way Dean kept glancing over to Castiel, smiling hopefully as he tried to catch sight of if Castiel was enjoying himself. Castiel didn’t have to fake his smile, didn’t have to lie when he told Dean that he was enjoying himself. He was glad that Dean was sharing things he liked with Castiel. It was an honor, being let into Dean’s life, the door wide open for him.

Dean lived the kind of life that Castiel didn’t envy, not exactly, but that Castiel felt desirable. Dean had been able to shake the bad with the help of time, and he had become this amazing person out of it all, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Castiel hoped that, as the time passed, Dean would be able to help him become someone like that, someone who so much better deserved Dean’s love.

Castiel knew better than to question Dean when he said he loved him, and he didn’t necessarily think that Dean didn’t deserve this fate, because Castiel was allowed to be selfish. But he knew he was still too influenced by his father, still so tentative of being who he wanted to someday be. He had a feeling that, with time, he would be able to move on from that, and Dean would help him do it.

Castiel’s smile, caused just by thinking about Dean, must have been telling, because Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Sickening, I tell you,” Charlie remarked as they continued to walk, both of them pretending they couldn’t tell any difference about the treatment. Castiel’s class was just ahead, seeable from where they were standing, and he opened his mouth to excuse himself and promise to see her later in the day when Charlie breathed out heavily, looking distressed, and blurted out, “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course,” Castiel told her, surprised and confused, and glanced around at the busy hallway. “Now?”

“Yeah,” she said nervously, biting on her lip before reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of Castiel’s trench coat, tugging him away from his class. “Let’s go somewhere else, huh? I know some places that’ll be pretty empty.”

Castiel, confused but trusting Charlie, allowed her to tug him back the way they came, and then further, out of the building and into the cold. She bypassed the parking lot in order to pull Castiel to the other side of the campus, not slowing her walk until they reached the driver’s education range, where there was a small building where their classroom sat. Charlie pried open the door and dragged him in behind her, the classroom warm and quiet, devoid of all people. Castiel glanced around, never having been in the classroom, as Charlie threw her bag onto one of the desks, still anxiously biting her lip. Castiel had a feeling he knew what was about to happen.

“Ah,” he said. “We’re here to talk about _me_.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, and then let out a weak laugh. “Did you think I was gonna drown you with any of my problems when you’re the one dealing with a boatload of crap right now?”

“I’m always happy to listen if you have a problem, Charlie,” Castiel assured her. “Although I cannot be sure of how valuable my advice would be.”

Charlie stared at him for a moment, taken aback, and then slowly shook her head. “You’re totally unbelievable, dude. In a good way, I mean. Like . . . you’re _such_ a good guy, Cas. You don’t even think that people could care about you or how you’re doing. You just kind of—keep calm and carry on.”

Castiel considered that, and then nodded. “I suppose that’s accurate. I rarely allow myself to open up, but I have been much more liberated since the move to Kansas. I was much different in Illinois. There was—there was more at stake, back then.”

“Cas,” Charlie said, softly, and then she was closing the distance in between them, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tight. For a moment, he was too surprised by her sudden movement to do anything, and then he slowly shifted his arms, hugging her back. She smelled like strawberries. Her embrace was reassuring, kind. Familial. He hugged her a little tighter.

They stood like that for a handful of seconds, perhaps just more than he could count on his fingers and toes, before Charlie said, “I want to know if you’re okay. Really and seriously, Cas. Just you and me.”

Castiel opened his mouth to tell her that he was doing okay. He closed it when he realized the words were a lie.

“I will be,” he told her instead.

She pulled back, looking up at him with a troubled expression, warring emotions worn like a battle mask on her face, her mouth tipped down in a frown. “That’s not answering me, Cas.”

“Charlie,” Castiel began warily, breathing out a sigh, “you know the conditions of my life about as best as Dean.”

Charlie had lost her parents a handful of years ago, when she was twelve. She had been in the foster system since then, unable to be kept in one house, foster parents always trading her in for younger children and those that didn’t require as much responsibility. It had been almost five years before she had landed in the house where she remained, the longest she had ever stayed in one place. Her foster parents promised to keep her around until the end of senior year, even after she turned eighteen. She had once told him softly that it was the best kindness they could have ever offered her.

Charlie knew what it was like to lose her parents. They had both lost their mothers at about the same age—and, although Charlie had the quicker closure of a funeral a few days after that loss, while Castiel had to wait several years, it was still a healable event. She had healed as best as it ever could, and she continued to live.

They both knew what it was like to lose a parent. The only difference was both of Charlie’s parents were deceased, while Castiel’s father had killed his own mother.

Castiel flinched at the thought. Charlie watched him, seeming to understand, her eyes softening in sympathy.

“Cas,” she said fondly, like she wanted to laugh at him in a nice way, in that incredulous way people looked at him when he undermined himself. She smiled and shook her head, closing her eyes. “Cas, come on. It’s _because_ of that that I know you’re not doing alright. You don’t have to tell me everything, either right now or ever—but I just want you to know that it doesn’t always have to be Dean, in case you’re afraid of saying something to him or digging up old memories, okay? Mine—my situation was different. Someone killed my parents, but it was an accident. Dean’s parents and your mom—that’s different. Sometimes, maybe it’s okay to talk to someone who sympathizes, even if it’s not the same exact situation. You know?”

Castiel did. God, did he know. He nodded slowly, looking away from her, but he knew she certainly would have noticed the heavy way in which he swallowed, feeling the grief and horror clawing its way up his throat again.

Charlie waited until he looked back at her and saw her guilt and sadness before telling him nervously, “We watched it. Me, Dean, Jo, Ash, Garth. We watched the trial as it happened. Skipped school and went to my house. We wanted to make sure you were okay, and we wanted to see—we wanted to make sure nothing happened that hurt you. We were afraid.”

Castiel understood. He was a little annoyed, a little ashamed, but also a little humbled that they had cared so much, that they had watched them not as a spectacle but as the easiest way of monitoring that he was going to be able to recover. Charlie, though, continued to look sheepish, her cheeks turning red with her own guilt.

“When your dad—when he said your mom’s name and all,” Charlie began slowly, cautiously, watching him, “we, uh, were watching when that happened, too. What you might not know—the camera cut to you and your brothers during all that. They looked at you afterward. And—God, Cas, the look on your face, I—”

She reached up and covered her mouth with her hands in a futile attempt to hide her trembling bottom lip from him, even though he could still see the tears in her eyes. She shook her head, hard, as if to knock herself out of it.

“God, we didn’t know what to say to you. I’ve never seen Dean so pale, you know? We didn’t know what to say. I think that’s always the worst part of losing someone you love, right? No one knows what to say. Even _you_ don’t know what to say. I get that, and I know that part of it. But, God, to hear your own father confessing to killing your mother, and then him having to tell you guys all that stuff like it was straight to your face—shit, Cas, that was _horrible_. That was so horrible that I almost couldn’t believe it was happening. I thought Jo was going to be sick. Hell, Garth _was_ sick.”

Charlie had started to cry somewhere in that, not from her own personal emotions, but from her large heart, her sympathy almost too much for even herself to bear. She reached up and rubbed the tears away uselessly, not stopping talking. Castiel just stood there and watched her silently, letting her say her piece, letting her tell these things to Castiel.

He felt like he needed to hear this. He felt like he needed it to know that it was real, despite everything. He needed someone to look at him and tell him his mother was dead, point blank. He needed someone to tell him that his father had done it.

Castiel was thankful for Charlie doing this, in a way. He would never know how to tell her that, but it was true, and he watched her struggling for the right words with his heart in his throat, and he knew he couldn’t be the sociopath or psychopath that his father had thought him to be, because he felt like he was tearing to pieces at seeing this girl with a beautiful soul falling to pieces, and all because she cared about him.

It was too much. It was everything. Castiel didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all, and he just allowed Charlie to catch her breath, and continue.

“And then, when your sisters came back without you and Anna told us where you were,” Charlie continued, sounding so sad, “I couldn’t bear to think about what you must be going through. I couldn’t imagine—and then Anna and Hael left school early one day, and you told Dean, and—we thought about getting in the car and going to Pontiac, did you know that? Dean wanted to get in his car and just drive until we got there, but Bobby stopped us. He told us to let your family have this. So we did, but goddamn did we mourn with you.

“I think what I’m trying to say is that I’m willing to _try_ to understand, even though I never will be able to. I will listen and I will never judge you for anything that you feel, and I just want you to know that you don’t have to bottle anything up. We care about you, Cas, all of us—me and Jo and Garth, especially Dean—and I just want you to know that we’re here. For everything. Anything. And I guess all of that was my incredibly lengthy and overemotional way of saying that I’ll understand no matter what, but that we’re not going anywhere, because I love you and you’re my best friend, and I just want you to be okay. So, yeah.”

Charlie fell silent, watching him for a reaction. Castiel let it sink in for a moment, letting all of her words weigh like feathers against the truth in his heart, before he looked to his left, out the windows and towards the trees that lined the back of the school grounds. He looked out there for a moment, his mind a mess of not wanting to say anything and wanting to say _everything_ , before he took a deep breath somehow through the obstruction of emotion in his throat.

“I hear them,” Castiel told her, his voice breaking, sounding hunted and haunted. He cleared his throat. “The names. I can hear him saying them. There were so many. So many lies. So many things, in hindsight, I tried to tell myself were genuine, but I should have known. My father would leave for day trips _all the time_ , Charlie. Even after he started—even after I knew he was dangerous, I still tried to believe he was a decent man. Why would I think that?”

“Because you didn’t want to believe otherwise,” Charlie told him softly. He looked to her. “Because it would have destroyed you to suspect him. Because, if you thought you knew, or if you had guessed right, it would have been so much worse when he got home. Because ignorance is fucking bliss, Cas. And because no one was asking you to save the world other than you.”

“I should have known,” he told her again, voice hoarse. He stared at her through watery eyes. “I should have _known_ before he came home covered in blood. I should have known the second he started hitting me, should have known when my brothers started to run, even when my mom left—”

Castiel stopped hard, flinching away from his own words. Charlie watched him, eyes sad.

“When my mom _disappeared_ ,” Castiel asserted, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. “I—I think I tried to tell myself that she ran away, even once I started fearing my father. Even after we knew he was a murderer, I tried to believe she would come back to us once he was locked up. And then she didn’t. And she—her body was only miles away, and we had no goddamn _idea_. We lived in that city for _seven years_ before we knew to look for her there.”

“No one is blaming you for that, and you shouldn’t blame anyone either,” she told him solidly. “That was no one’s fault but _his_. Your father is the bad guy here, Cas. He is the one that’s twisted. He’s crazy.”

“I know,” he said, knowing that, at least, for certain. “I know that.”

“It was you against him, Cas,” she whispered, looking him right in the eye. “No one expected you to win. But, in the end, you _did_. You came out of it alive and he’s gone forever, and now you’re free. You can recover, and you can keep moving. It’s over. It’s always so hard to believe, but it’s over.”

“It’s over,” Castiel echoed, his voice catching in his throat. “Everything is over. But it’s still there. There are still so many people mourning. Bodies will be buried. My brothers and I will still be blamed, will still be suspected as being accomplices. It’s over, but it’ll never end.”

“It’s as over as it’ll ever be,” Charlie assured him, taking a step forward to grab at his hand, squeezing. “It’s okay to believe that, Cas. It’s okay to be afraid of it, too.”

“Charlie,” Castiel said slowly, feeling the tears finally fall. “I don’t think I’m okay.”

“That’s okay, too,” she told him, and then smiled.

Castiel closed his eyes, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He took a deep breath in, and then pushed it out. In, and then out. And, when he felt like he could finally breathe past the emotions crushing his chest, he opened his eyes again, seeking out Charlie’s, feeling new tears rolling down his face for a different reason.

“Thank you,” he told her desperately, his hands shaking as he reached out to hug her again, squeezing her just as tightly as she was squeezing him. “Thank you for saying that. _Thank you_.”

“Of course, Cas,” she told him, face buried in his chest, and squeezed him again. “ _Of course_.”

They stood there until the bell signaling the end of second period echoed from the main building out to their little island isolated away from it all, telling them that their time was up. Charlie pulled away from him, smiling up at him tearfully but confidently, looking to him like she knew he could conquer anything, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered again and, again, she smiled up at him, sunshine in human form.

“Sure thing, Cas,” she told him before pulling away, grabbing at her backpack and throwing it over her shoulder. She paused before presenting her arm to him, raising her eyebrows with a grin. “Ready for class, my most noble of all knights?”

Castiel smiled at her reverently and took it. “Absolutely, Your Highness,” he told her earnestly, holding his chin up high. “We will proceed, and we shall conquer.”

“Damn straight,” she said, turning to him and grinning as they headed back toward the building, leaving all of their grief drift into the background, letting the past stay in the past, even if it’s just for now. She bumped his hip with hers and added, “Just don’t tell Dean you’re my knight yet, alright? He’ll be a little offended. Proud, but offended.”

Castiel laughed despite himself, knowing how seriously Dean takes their LARPing activities, and nodded to her solemnly before breaking away to stop walking and perform an impromptu bow.

“As you wish,” he told her, and she threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh my god, Cas,” she laughed as they walked on, grinning so wide it was like her face would split. “This settles it, you’re going LARPing with me and Dean the next day it’s held. No buts. It’s mandatory, as my best friend, to at least attend once. I will leave it up to your choice any times after that.”

“Deal,” he told her, reaching over to muss up her hair as if she was Anna, and Charlie shrieked before skittering from his hold, reaching up to fix her hair as she laughed and jogged ahead of him, grinning back at him, just out of reach.

“Race you!” she told him, and broke into a run toward the school, ignoring the startled glances that the other students sent her way as she darted around them. Castiel watched her for a moment before laughing, shaking his head fondly, so thankful for Charlie, so thankful for all of the things that had gone wrong so that Lawrence could go right.

Castiel watched her run for a moment, watching the little sister he had never expected to find here in this town that his family had used to escape, watching the young woman who had singlehandedly accepted him and introduced him to friends and hope and the man he loved more than life itself, all out of nothing other than pure kindness, and he couldn’t help but to smile and follow behind her, returning to life he had forged for himself here in Lawrence, and he did the only thing he could do—he kept moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was only half paying attention while editing (the new Panic! At The Disco song is out and I've been playing it on repeat for a solid six hours already), so let me know if there are some little irritating spelling or grammar mistakes :)
> 
> Thank you guys for your sudden and awesome surge of support for all of my stories! You guys are awesome!
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Kay


	18. Our Cure

As the days went past and got better, recovering slowly but absolutely, Castiel still couldn’t quite find it in himself to sleep. It was only a handful of days since his mother’s funeral, the night before the start of the last school week before Christmas break, but still Castiel was too consumed by the thoughts of his father and his mother, unnerved by the stress of the midterm tests coming in the next couple of days, and sleep eluded him. This night in particular proved to be restless, and Castiel didn’t even bother to lay numbly in his bed converting oxygen into carbon dioxide before pushing himself up and wandering downstairs, figuring that he might be able to at least sneak the television without waking up any siblings.

Of course, that plan flew straight out the window the minute that Castiel walked into the living room and found Michael already sitting on the couch, his feet up on the table and a small stack of papers sitting on his lap.

Michael looked up when Castiel came to a quick stop in the living room entrance, and he offered Castiel a tired smile. Castiel nodded in acknowledgement back and was about to make an excuse to exit before Michael turned back to his papers and said, “Report cards. Realized I hadn’t had the chance to look at any of them since we got here. I haven’t been very good on keeping up with the little things to do with the family.”

Castiel hesitated in the doorway for another second before inviting himself into the room. He sunk down into one of the adjacent armchairs before replying, “It’s okay. You’ve been dealing with enough.”

“Sam has an advanced reading level,” Michael enlightened him, flipping to the next page. “And Hael’s science teacher recommends her to take Advanced Placement in Biology next year, even though the school typically reserves those seats for juniors and up.”

Castiel looked at his brother, not knowing what to say. Michael stared down at the paper, a forlorn expression on his face. He switched to the next paper without saying a word, running his fingers along the edges as he scanned the words printed on it.

“You’re doing better in Calculus than I expected,” Michael told him, glancing up with a teasing grin.

Castiel rolled his eyes but still smiled, shaking his head. “Perhaps I’m smarter than I look.”

“Well, you look like me,” Michael pointed out, “so obviously you’re highly intelligent.”

The joke out of Michael’s mouth caught Castiel off guard, and he didn’t even seem to remember that his siblings were asleep deeper into the house as he threw his head back and laughed. Michael chuckled along with him, seeming amused that Castiel found him so funny. Castiel couldn’t remember the last time his eldest brother had even _told_ a joke.

Castiel glanced back to the stairs sheepishly to make sure none of his siblings were about to wander down and give him a piece of their mind, but none appeared. Castiel looked back to Michael, smirking.

“Since when do you have a sense of humor?”

“Since somewhere around the time that law school started to suck out my soul,” Michael told him flatly, and then rolled his eyes. “What are you doing up? Still having trouble sleeping?”

He nodded, and then shrugged, hoping that Michael wouldn’t ask into it. However, he probably should have known better, because even a joking Michael up into the early hours of the morning was still a Michael that wasn’t going to take a few gestures as a solid response.

Michael placed the papers on the table next to his feet, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as he appraised Castiel. Castiel looked back at him, unconsciously picking at a fray in the hem of a shirt that used to belong to Dean. If Michael noticed never having seen the garment on Castiel before, he chose not to comment on it.

“Anna tells me you have some very good friends looking after you,” Michael finally stated.

“You’ve talked to Anna?”

“The other day, yes,” Michael affirmed with a small smile. “She was wandering around the house in the middle of the night same as you. Anna has always been—she’s a strong one. She only seeks support when she knows she can’t keep standing on her own. I think she was hoping to find you, but she expressed no displeasure at talking to me instead. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to her. If I ever have.”

Castiel tilted his head in a silent question.

“I feel as though I am guilty of the same crime Gabriel and Balthazar may be charged with,” Michael confessed slowly. “If in a different form. While they disappeared, I tried to make myself do the same while in plain sight. I distanced myself from that house with every passing year. I remember when Mom—I remember knowing something was wrong. Instinct. So I stayed away for as long and much as possible, even though I would come back to check on you and our siblings, because I felt guilty for trying to push away. I was your elder brother, and I didn’t want to abandon you the way our father kept saying our mother did, no matter how much I doubted that story. I never stayed around long enough to get to know any of you or who you had become until we moved here. And then I was just too overwhelmed, too _busy_ , to ever really sit down and have a real conversation with some of you.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say.

“You’ve come out of your shell so much,” Michael told him, turning to look at him with a happy smile. “I’m very proud. I remember those months when we first moved here, you walked around this house like a ghost. You always looked at me like you were waiting to hear the bottom line. Even when you talked to me, it was more like you were talking to a stranger, a superior. And now you’re more open. There’s a weight off of your shoulders. Dean Winchester has saved you, in a way.”

Castiel would agree, of course. He would probably be the first one to say that he knew he wouldn’t be where he was if he hadn’t met Charlie that first day, and she hadn’t pointed him in the direction of her best friend. Castiel looked down at where his fingers were still toying with the hem, and smiled.

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “Dean is—Dean has helped. I’m very happy around him. He makes me happy.”

“Good,” Michael whispered, his eyes looking a lot wetter than Castiel expected. Michael looked away. “That’s all I’ve wanted for you. For all of you. I wanted you to find a home here. Somewhere that was an escape.”

“It is,” Castiel told him, assured him. “We couldn’t have been able to do this if we had stayed in Pontiac. You didn’t _have_ to move us out of that house, but you did. You didn’t _have_ to move us from that town, or that state, but you _did_ , sacrificing any possible careers you could have earned in a bigger city to be the father none of us have ever had. I don’t think any of us have even thanked you.”

“You don’t have to,” Michael quickly assured him, sheepish, but Castiel just shook his head.

“I do,” he said firmly, watery. “Thank you, Michael. For everything you’ve ever done for us. For everything.”

Michael stared at him for a moment, expression melting into something like disbelief, gratification, and brotherly love that Castiel couldn’t remember seeing on his eldest brother’s face in a long time, always so stoic and serious, having to keep up all the strong fronts to stand as the family’s bullet shield. This was Michael stripped down, sanded away like paint and primer, revealing what was hidden underneath all along. Castiel couldn’t much remember Michael when he was a teenager, a child himself at the time, but he figured he must have looked something like this, full of hope and light and determination to make the best out of what they had.

“I’m so proud of the man you’ve become,” Michael confessed. “I wish I could even take a little credit for it.”

“You can,” Castiel said, and smiled when Michael’s expression turned to confusion. “I’ve always looked up to you, Michael. You’ve always been my hero.” Castiel smiled, and shrugged, but he was sure any casualty in it was lost with the way his throat felt thick with emotion when he said, “You’re my big brother.”

Michael shot to his feet, and Castiel barely had the time to push himself onto his before Michael was charging toward him and throwing his arms around him in the most suffocating bear hug he had ever experienced, and Castiel had recently discovered that Sam was a master at bear hugs. Michael squeezed him hard and Castiel clutched himself closer to his brother, needing to be supported and to give support, the Novak family shifting from a house of cards to the kind of rocks that even the waves part for. Michael and Castiel stood in the living room and embraced, and Castiel finally felt the world start to right itself on its axis just a little bit more, shifting the world back into a better perspective.

Castiel didn’t know what he would’ve done if he had to go through the last several weeks alone. He was so goddamn grateful that he didn’t have to know.

Eventually, Michael pulled away, clearing his throat hard and pretending like he was reaching up and rubbing his face because he was tired. Castiel offered him a small smile before shifting back to sit in the seat he had abandoned and Michael returned to his spot on the couch. Castiel looked at his big brother, the one who always stood between the bullies and him, the one that always stood between his _father_ and him, and he was so grateful for everything Michael had to give, and almost feeling guilty that Castiel had to ask for one more.

“Well, now that I’ve talked you up a little,” Castiel teased, making Michael laugh, “I do have something I’ve been meaning to ask you. It’s about college.”

Michael nodded. “Have you made a choice?”

“I think I have, actually.” Castiel fidgeted for a moment. “At least, I hope it’s a good one, since I’ve only applied to one school, and I applied weeks ago. I—I was thinking, if you don’t mind having me around, I would like to go to Kansas University. I would like to stay at home. If that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Michael assured him, and then pointed at him, expression stern. “As long as you’re not choosing this because of us. Or because of a boy.”

“No,” Castiel laughed, shaking his head. “No, this is my decision. You guys and Dean are just bonuses. I’ve been considering this for a long time and I—I think I really like it here, and I would like to stay.”

“Then you’ll always be welcome, Castiel,” Michael assured him, smiling. “But you have to break the news to Inias. I think he was hoping to steal your bedroom when you left.”

“Poor Inias,” Castiel said, but grinned. “He can have Gabriel’s. Although, knowing Gabriel, he’ll probably stay, as well.”

“Probably,” Michael replied, looking exhausted, as if imagining Gabriel being a homebody for the rest of their lives. Castiel grinned, not having too much trouble picturing it himself, but his smile faded as another thought crossed his mind, spreading cold worry through the warmth in his chest. Castiel looked at his brother for another moment, considering pretending like the thought had never struck him, but knowing that he could not.

“How are you, Michael?” Castiel asked suddenly, offering a sympathetic expression when Michael looked to him in confusion. “I mean, are you doing alright? You’ve done so much to be the stronghold, keeping all of our heads above water, but—are _you_ okay?”

Michael paused and considered his question carefully, not willing to lie and Castiel appreciated that. His elder brother breathed out slowly, leaning back into the sofa.

“I have been better,” Michael relented. “Extremely tired. Work is piling up past my ears on most days, and I think my boss’s secretary is flirting with me, but I can’t be sure. I miss Mom a lot lately, but I’m happy now that we at least know what happened. But, most of all—I’m just thankful. Thankful that our father is in prison, and that our mother has been given the rest that she has always deserved. Thankful that all of my siblings are okay and powering on despite all of our struggles.” Michael turned to Castiel and grinned. “I’m just very thankful.”

Castiel waited a beat, and then said teasingly, “Awww.”

Michael tried to use the stack of papers to hit him but Castiel leaned away so that they wouldn’t be able to, grinning. Michael rolled his eyes as he returned to his seat, smiling in a way Castiel hadn’t seen in a while. It made the guilt and sadness in his chest feel a little lighter to think that he might be helping, might have helped Castiel feel like less of the monster their father had wanted him to be.

Castiel wasn’t used to putting a smile on people’s faces. He was beginning to enjoy the experience.

“I just have one question,” Castiel admitted, furrowing his brow. “How exactly do you _not know_ if the secretary is flirting with you?”

Michael groaned. “Because the only options would be either the secretary or my boss himself, and he is a fifty-some year old married balding man with three kids, so that is highly unlikely. It’s—she—” Michael grimaced before finally forcing himself to say, “They’re memos, alright? Unsigned memos.”

Castiel stared at him for a beat, and then started to smirk. Michael gave him a stern look and pointed his finger at him, eyes narrowing into slits.

“Don’t you start,” he urged, but he started grinning, too. “It’s a little ridiculous, isn’t it? I have a full time job, I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five, and my boss’s secretary is flirting with me via work memos. Don’t get old, Castiel. It’s a brave new world.”

Castiel finally started to laugh, unable to hold it in anymore. Michael joined him, shaking his head and smiling down at the stack of papers in his hands bashfully. Castiel wondered if Michael had been lonely at school, if he’d had a bunch of friends that way he always did when he was in high school, or if Michael had started isolating himself when it all started going wrong the same way the rest of them did. Castiel wondered how much of Michael’s life had been spent living in fear of their father, in one way or another. He wondered if he and Michael were even all that different, and if that was at all a bad thing. He didn’t think it was at all.

“You should talk to her,” Castiel offered, grinning at his elder brother, the same boy who’d taught him how to ride a bike, the same man who had looked at him and knew without having to ask that Castiel had been through the unspeakable. “The secretary. Even if you aren’t interested in dating, you can still have a friend. That wouldn’t hurt.”

Michael looked at him for a long moment before stating, “Perhaps you are right. I’ve been very antisocial since going to work there—maybe I should, as Gabriel has put it to me many times, pull the stick out of my ass.”

Castiel choked on air for a moment, not expecting that. Michael grinned over at him and set the papers on the table with an air of finality, like closing up one of the best chapters in a very long book. Michael stretched and leaned back deeper into the couch, yawning.

“You should get some sleep,” he told Castiel. “You have school in the morning, and I don’t want to get anymore calls from that infernal principal complaining that you fell asleep in another class, no matter how much I sympathize with the mundane potentially wasted time on a standardized gym course.”

“I think I’m going to stay out here for a little bit longer,” Castiel confessed. When Michael shot him a witheringly stern look, shifting back into an overworked parent, Castiel continued, “Not long, just a little bit. I need—I think I need some time to think. And then I’ll try and get more sleep. I swear.”

Michael nodded, never one to be unreasonable, and heaved himself off of the couch, stretching a little and wincing like he had been sitting there for a long time, and Castiel almost wondered how many nights Michael had spent sitting in the living room when Castiel hadn’t, the two of them still too paranoid to let their minds at ease, to let themselves think that everyone is finally safe. Michael paused on his way out of the room before reaching out and mussing Castiel’s hair, smirking when it stood up on end and Castiel squinted a glare. He waved his goodnight and wandered back to the smallest bedroom to catch a few more hours of sleep, the changing of an unnamed guard, and Castiel watched him go, waiting until he heard the click signaling the shut of Michael’s door before letting out a long breath, leaning back in his seat.

So much had changed. Everything was still changing, really, adapting to the changes that had yet to settle in, an earthquake’s tectonic plates slotting into place to stabilize for the time being. But that was okay, because things had to go wrong before they finally went right, and Castiel was finally seeing that, so filled with hurt and dread over the bad, and filled with so much hope with what’s to come. Michael was right—Castiel was free in a way he felt he never had been, and he was ready to see the way the world was going to change for him in the next coming months, with the new year and graduation and starting college, with being with Dean and having unshakably loyal friends and finally happy to the point that sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve it, but knew that he had gone through hell and made it out and maybe, just maybe, he actually did.

Castiel looked around at the new home that his family had made for themselves, their new safe haven, and couldn’t bring himself to stop smiling.

Castiel finally had so many reasons to hope, and damn if he wasn’t going to treasure each and every one of them.

~*~

Wednesday night found Castiel, Dean, and Charlie laying on the floor in the basement of Dean’s house, the sound of Sam’s footsteps on the wooden floor above them, pacing around the kitchen and reciting flash cards the same way he had been when Castiel and Charlie had gotten there an hour and a half ago. It had started off as a study session, and a rather productive one, and then Charlie had asked something vaguely philosophical and focus went right out the window as the debates began. Castiel wasn’t sure when they ended up on the floor, Dean in the middle and Castiel and Charlie flanking either side, but it wasn’t all that uncomfortable, so he didn’t mind. They laid there in a contented silence for a long time before they felt the need to speak, and even that felt less like shattering the silence and more like bringing a little more life into the room.

“Do you guys have any idea what you want to do with your lives?” Charlie demanded to the ceiling, tone thoughtful. “I can’t stop thinking about it lately. My foster mom keeps suggesting things to me, trying to be supportive but really just making me anxious as hell. My foster dad just keeps telling me to do what I love and to not think so hard about it, but I don’t even know what I love, or what I’m good at.”

“Computers,” Dean reminded her. “You’re really good at those. You could be a programmer or something. I’m sure there’s a half a million careers in computers that you would kick major orc ass at.”

Charlie snorted while Castiel smiled, Dean’s pinky finger finding his where their hands laid at their sides and linking them together. Castiel bit back a goofy smile, happiness like a bubble of warm water in his chest.

“What about you, Winchester?” she demanded, turning her head to look at him. “Have you decided?”

“I,” Dean started, and then paused like he wasn’t nearly as sure that it was going to sound good spoken out loud. “I was thinking about going into automotive engineering or something. I like cars, and Bobby would fire me if I wasn’t good enough at them. So I guess it’s worth a shot, to see if I like it and then go from there.”

“I think you’ll be amazing at it,” Castiel told him with all honesty, and Dean turned to him with a thankful smile before softly nudging his shoulder with his own.

“And what about you, Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” Dean teased. “Any ideas since the last time this subject was brought up at your family’s dinner table?”

Castiel sighed like a reflex to the mention of that night, making Dean and Charlie laugh, before he thought about it, turning over what he wanted to say in his head, wondering if it was going to sound stupid. He figured it couldn’t, not when Charlie and Dean were his two best friends and had loved and supported him through the worst of all times, and he finally forced himself to say, “I used to want to go into the FBI. For obvious reasons, I don’t think that will work out all that well, but—I was thinking maybe deciding on behavioral psychology, and minoring in criminology. See where it takes me, and see what I like. And, if it goes well, keep working towards something I can feel at least a little proud of, you know?”

Dean’s pinky squeezed his. He knew.

Charlie hummed for a moment and then asked, “What school?”

“Heard back from Kansas University real fast, and it’s not even a rejection,” Dean confessed, and then smiled sheepishly when Castiel and Charlie both congratulated him excitedly, previously unaware of the news. “It’s not a big deal, it’s just—I don’t want to just pick up and take off, I guess. I wanna stick around Lawrence, make sure Sam survives high school and then see him off. And then, who knows? We’ll find out then.”

Charlie was practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m staying, too! Their computer program is pretty kick ass, and even if I didn’t end up doing that, it wouldn’t hurt to stay in town for at least a couple of years until I figure it out. I haven’t applied yet, but come on. I’m awesome. So KU it is!”

Charlie and Dean awkwardly high-fived without shifting their positions, resulting in their hands coming nowhere close. The three of them laughed at the display before attention shifted, and Dean and Charlie both looked to Castiel, Charlie’s face turning a little sad and Dean’s closing up just a little bit, like he knew what he wanted to ask but didn’t want to say it. Charlie took the initiative for him.

“So, Cas,” she started slowly. “Have you decided on a school yet? I’d be surprised if you don’t go to Ivy League or something—and hush, you’re super intelligent and it literally makes me so jealous it’s unreal. So, what’s it gonna be? Who is gonna be lucky to have Cas Novak on the roster for the fall semester?”

On a normal day, Castiel might’ve felt a little insulted that they wouldn’t think that he was going to be staying, but that wasn’t the case for today. He understood where they were coming from. He hadn’t been in Lawrence very long, and they might be figuring that he would return to Illinois, or turn over a new leaf somewhere else. It hurt his heart to think that Dean had gotten his acceptance to school and might’ve considered that Castiel would go somewhere he couldn’t follow, hated the thought that any of them would doubt for a minute that Castiel didn’t love Lawrence with a surge of devotion he frankly never expected to have for a geological location. So, instead, he played along a little, hesitating like he had bad news, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking back at them.

“Actually,” he began slowly, “I only applied to one school, and I—I got my acceptance this morning.”

“Oh, wow, congrats!” Charlie chimed, supportive and loving as always. Dean squeezed his hand. “That sounded like one hell of a gamble.”

Castiel nodded.

“Where is it?” Dean asked cautiously, working to sound nonchalant, but Castiel could hear the unease underneath of it, wondering how long-distance would work, wondering if it ever would. Castiel pretended to think about it like he was counting the miles individually in his head, using all the will in his body not to start grinning.

“Hmm,” Castiel said slowly, tilting his head as he continued to stare at the ceiling. “I would say it’s about two, maybe even three blocks to the west. Maybe not even that.”

Castiel peaked over at them with a smirk. Dean’s face lit up automatically, and Charlie cheered, pumping her fist excitedly in the air.

“Hell yeah, bitches!” she cheered. “The gang is sticking together!”

“Sticking together and living at home,” Castiel agreed, laughing.

“Hell yeah,” Dean agreed while echoing Charlie’s earlier sentiment, and then he shifted, scooping an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest while his other hand grabbed Charlie’s wrist and lugged her in, bringing them into a big laughing, wriggling group hug, legs kicking shins on accident and Charlie’s hair in Castiel’s face and Dean’s laughter echoing up past the heavens. They collapsed there like puppies, reminiscent of the way Castiel and his siblings had when they had first come to Lawrence, and they squirmed and threw elbows for more leg room, Castiel ending up laying with his head on Dean’s stomach and Charlie laying perpendicular over Castiel, her head laying on her hands like a pillow, their legs tangled together.

“I’m glad you both aren’t leaving,” Charlie confessed. “And not only because I would miss how absolutely love-struck you both are on a daily basis. It really makes me feel better to know you guys will be right where we’ll need each other to be.”

“Just us against the world, kids,” Dean said, lifting his head to grin at both of them. “What do you say?”

“Hell yeah,” Castiel and Charlie replied at once, and then they were laughing again, wriggling and pushing and kicking, three best friends locked in an understanding in Dean’s basement sanctuary, determined to take on the new adult world side by side, with jokes and sarcasm and, according to Charlie, “enough gay to light the world in rainbow”.

Castiel couldn’t think of anyone else he would trust more than Dean and Charlie to walk into the unknown with. He ducked up and kissed Dean on the cheek, ignoring Charlie when she grumbled and complained without meaning it, and the three of them stayed down there in that basement, in their secure little bubble, until Sam came stomping down to announce that dinner was ready, and they immerged with arms linked and past ghosts unspoken and understood, them against anyone who dared get in their way; and that night, Castiel, for the first time in a long one, fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	19. A Paradise Within Thee

“Oh my god,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous, Gabriel, it’s LARPing,” Castiel corrected him, already exhausted from having been in his older brother’s presence for so long. Samandriel, hanging onto Castiel’s hand, was openly gaping around at the people passing them fully dressed and in the middle of their day of role-playing, wearing furs and chainmail and helmets and holding swords. Castiel guided his brothers around a large group gathered and painting their faces in some sort of war paint before continuing, “It’s an organized activity. It promotes friendship and leadership. It’s not much different than an organized sport.”

“Except that these crazy people are willing to have fun in an open park in the middle of December,” Gabriel pointed out, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, but his grin was still bright as he gazed around at the elaborate set-up, silently laughing at all of the outfits as if he wasn’t wearing a hat made to look like one half of a Tootsie Roll. “This is worth cancelling lunch with Kali. Damn is this worth it.”

Castiel ignored him, glancing around. It was an elaborately complicated and impressive setup, actually. A large part of land out by the university was being used to hold tents and fenced in jousting areas, and people could be seen milling throughout the whole area. The tents were all similar colors, as Charlie had described to him as being _her_ colors, as the Queen of Moondoor, and the people were typically wearing that color as well. And, despite the cold, many of them hadn’t even given up their own comfort from the chill over authenticity, instead utilizing furs and extra layers over warm clothes that were probably underneath.

It moved like a well-oiled machine. Castiel had no idea what was happening, but he had to admit that it was certainly impressive.

“So your Eric Forman friend runs this whole thing?” Gabriel demanded rhetorically, as if he hadn’t already asked it on the way over. “Man, this must have taken a shit ton of work.”

“Who’s Eric Forman?” Samandriel asked, confused.

“I believe he is a popular culture character,” Castiel responded to his little brother before turning to the older one, the one that was easily more foolish and actually qualified to medicate and operate on living humans. “She is the queen, but not necessarily the organizer. She helps, but is not the sole person in charge. And, if you had ever met Charlie, you wouldn’t have to ask me how she does it. She is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Apparently,” Gabriel muttered as another troop passed them by, laughing about something or another. “Where is her humble abode? Or are we just going to wander until the war is won?”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Castiel replied before turning to a man they were about to past, easily in his thirties and wearing an elaborate set of armor. “Excuse me, would you be able to direct me to the queen?”

The man blinked at him, and then down to Sammy, and then to Gabriel. Gabriel wagged his eyebrows in response and the man immediately turned back to Castiel, probably figuring he was the safest to talk to. “Who’s asking? You a part of this?”

“She’s a good friend of mine,” Castiel explained. “We’re just stopping by to say hello. I also figured Dean would appreciate the return of his leather jacket in this weather, as he left it at my house yesterday.”

Castiel held up the jacket in his other hand as if in evidence. The guy looked at the jacket, and then understanding bloomed in his eyes.

“Oh,” he said, “you must be Cas.”

Gabriel sniggered. “Aw, lover boy must tell everyone he meets about you.”

The man laughed, but Castiel wasn’t sure if he should smile or frown, so he just kind of stood there. The man replied, “A little. Yeah, him and Charlie should be in that tent.” The man pointed to a large tent about two rows over, planted somewhere in the middle of the neighborhood of tents. “If they’re not, they’ll be back soon and you can wait in there. It’s cold as hell out here.”

“Thank you,” Castiel told him, and then turned to Gabriel. “You and Sam can head back to the car if you want. I shouldn’t be long.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Gabriel replied before practically disappearing into the crowd, probably doing his best to sprint as fast as he could to an area where he can mock someone for his own enjoyment. Castiel and Sammy stood and watched him disappear into the crowd for a moment before Castiel looked down at his little brother.

“We should probably follow him, huh?” Castiel asked, as if he needed the agreement from a child barely over a height of four feet. Sammy nodded in confirmation and Castiel lead him in the direction of Charlie’s tent, ducking through the sides of tents instead of following the path and walking around. He figured that this was a little too urgent of an event to warrant the use of commonplace pedestrian laws.

His suspicions were correct when, as Castiel and Sammy wandered up to the big tent that could only be Charlie’s, he heard Gabriel’s voice carry over the wind and the hustle and bustle of the general population, laughing, “Lookin’ good, lover boy! You don’t go halfway, do you?”

“Who’s this?” Charlie’s voice asked, confused, a few moments before Castiel picked up his pace and all but dragged Sammy through the dirt and into the tent, already frowning. Standing in the middle of the room like he belonged, grinning in amusement around at the elaborate setup, was his menacing brother. On the opposite corner of the tent, standing around a table set up with what looked like a war strategy, was Charlie and Dean, the latter of which looking absolutely tortured.

Charlie and Dean spotted Castiel as he entered, and Dean’s face immediately burst into a happy, relieved smile, like he was happy that at least Castiel’s older brother didn’t happen upon him on accident when he was poking around on his college campus. Charlie, as well, lit up, immediately waving excitedly.

“Hey, Cas!” she greeted, and then looked to Gabriel. “Oh, this must be one of your brothers.”

“Two, technically,” Dean corrected her, and then crossed the room to squat in front of Sammy, offering him half of a high-five. Samandriel immediately surrendered a smile and slapped Dean’s palm. “How’s it going, Sammy?”

“Okay,” Samandriel offered in a small voice, opening up more lately but never too much. He glanced around at everything, curiosity shining unhidden in his expression, before he murmured, “What is this place?”

“It’s called Moondoor,” Charlie explained to him, grinning as she knelt down next to Dean. Samandriel turned his gaze to her, and his eyes widened. Castiel supposed he understood—Charlie was decked out in more elaborate armor than even Dean was, the crest of her kingdom craved onto the breastplate, and she had a fake sword in a sheath at her waist, clipped onto a utility belt. Charlie grinned at him and offered him her hand like a grown-up. “My name is Charlie. I’m Cas’s friend, and the queen.”

Samandriel shook her hand timidly before pointing to the sword and asking, “Do you know how to fight?”

“I sure do,” Charlie affirmed, shooting a grin up at Castiel before directing it toward his littlest brother, who looked like he didn’t know if he wanted to be captivated by Charlie’s hair or her armor. Gabriel snorted in amusement from somewhere behind Castiel’s friends. Charlie winked at Sammy and asked, “What kind of queen wouldn’t stand with her armies?”

Samandriel looked like he didn’t have a good answer, and he glanced nervously up at Castiel before turning back to Charlie, looking timid. Castiel’s heart went out to Samandriel—it always had. One of the worst off after the reign of their father was his youngest brother, the one who had grown up with no mother to remember and a father who rampaged. The last two years of Samandriel’s life, important formative years, had been spent watching the older brother he was currently clinging to like a lifeline get beaten until he was bruised and bleeding. Samandriel had to be swept into the last couple of crazy months without entirely understanding what was happening, but having to stumble through it all anyway, not knowing why their dad had to go away and not knowing very well the brother who was taking care of him all of a sudden. Samandriel had gone a couple of days without speaking at all, when they first got here. Even now, facing off with someone he wasn’t familiar with, he was shrinking back, hoping to make himself smaller. All Castiel could think about was the hundreds of nights that he had locked Samandriel and their other siblings in his room to protect them, and the way Samandriel used to fall asleep crying, so afraid.

If Castiel didn’t already hate his father for what he had done to him, and what he had done to his mother, then he would hate him more than his body could contain at having made his littlest brother afraid of his own shadow.

Samandriel hesitated again, uncertain, before he managed to whisper, “Can you show me?”

“Of course I can,” Charlie told him, and then offered him her hand to take. Samandriel shot Castiel another anxious glance but Castiel just smiled down at him reassuringly, nodding encouragingly. Cautiously, Samandriel let go of Castiel’s hand and took Charlie’s instead, letting her whisk him off to the corner of the large tent, where she immediately started off by producing a Styrofoam sword from practically nowhere and educating him on the art of how to hold it properly. Dean rose back to his normal height, looking off to Charlie and Samandriel and grinning.

“He’s getting better,” even Dean noticed, and then Castiel’s boyfriend was turning to him with a suggestive grin, eyebrows raised. “And how can I help _you_ , Mr. Novak?”

“Deep breath, Casanova,” Gabriel told Dean, reminding Castiel and Dean that he was even there. Gabriel rolled his eyes at them, smirking. “Your knight in shining armor wanted to bring you a good luck charm.”

Castiel held up the jacket he had almost forgot he was holding. Dean smiled sheepishly and took it from Castiel, using the excuse of closeness to dart forward and kiss his cheek.

“Yup, forgot about this until this morning,” Dean told him, smiling. “Thanks, babe. You sure you can’t stay?”

“We’re running errands,” Castiel told him, hoping he didn’t sound too bitter but, if Gabriel’s suddenly uproarious laughter was anything to go by, he wasn’t doing nearly as much of a good job of it as he thought. Castiel glanced around, wanting to change the subject. “This is an elaborate setup. I almost didn’t expect it to be so big.”

“Charlie got attendance up when she suggested to the committee to make it community-wide, and not just kids from the high schools and college,” Dean said, nodding. “Soon, we’re gonna have to take this baby to the big park, which will be quite interesting.”

“Why?”

Dean grinned. “That’s where our enemies set up camp. Battles for resources will be battles for land. Things will get much more serious, and a hell of a lot of fun.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Gabriel said, but his tone was not unkind. He sounded almost interested. “So, are these other guys your enemies just because this town ain’t big enough for the both of you?”

“Oh, way better than that,” Dean replied. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder to point at Charlie, who was sparring slowly with Samandriel now, smiling and encouraging him every time he did something right, teaching him new moves. “The other camp’s got a queen, too. Her name is Gilda. And she’s Charlie’s ex.”

“Ah,” Gabriel said approvingly. “Personal drama.”

“Yup,” Dean affirmed. “Makes the battles extremely interesting. It didn’t end all that bad, but they’re both stubborn as hell and think they can rule the world, so boy do they strategize. Problem is, with the world ruling business, Charlie’s the one that’s got it in spades, and Gilda probably knows that too.”

Gabriel watched Charlie perform a complicated maneuver with her sword to show Samandriel, who watched her with mouth gaping open, and he nodded slowly. “She seems the type,” he critiqued honestly. He glanced down at his watch before looking up at Castiel, raising his eyebrows. “Unless you want to be hunting for the so-called perfect Christmas tree until the sun goes down, we should probably head out. Michael gave me a to-do list about as big as this tent, and I would rather not face Michael’s wrath if something isn’t ticked off.”

“Michael has taken it upon himself to put on a traditional Christmas,” Castiel enlightened Dean, who looked like he was going to ask. “I’m not quite sure what it means, since I can barely remember a Christmas outside of church, but I know there will be a tree and decorations and dinner, and Michael has charged us with collecting all of the items necessary for those things.”

“You’ll probably be invited too, bucko, so don’t smirk too wide,” Gabriel told Dean, who had, indeed, started to smirk. “I’m bringing my girlfriend, and Michael is becoming a walking cliché and asked out a secretary. Plus, your geeky friend way below my little sister’s league has already promised to bring at least one vegetarian option.”

Dean considered that for a moment before shrugging, sending a bright smile to Castiel. “Just tell me the time and I’ll be there.”

“Wow, got that one trained nice and fast, huh, Cassie?” Gabriel demanded, entertained, before he turned to the other side of the tent without waiting for Castiel or Dean to reply. “We gotta leave these two to the kingdom, Sam. You ready to roll?”

Charlie and Samandriel looked over. Samandriel wasn’t the only one who looked a little crestfallen, gripping a large wooden sword from where he and Charlie had been “dueling”. He pouted a little bit but nodded anyway, setting down the sword and murmuring a thank you to Charlie before retreating back to Castiel’s side. Castiel reached down and smoothed down Samandriel’s hair, which had become a little mussed during the play fight. Charlie took her spot next to Dean, smiling.

“It’s official,” Charlie announced, though it was unclear about what was official at all. She pointed toward Samandriel, smiling. “How about, when it’s a little less cold outside, you and Cas can come back here and be my knights? I would be honored to fight by your side, Sir Samandriel.”

Samandriel’s eyes were wide and disbelieving, almost wondrous, and Castiel knew that he and Gabriel were going to fold like poker chairs before their littlest brother even looked at them with big, begging eyes. Dean reached up one hand to hide his grin as Samandriel did, indeed, wield those eyes like a weapon, all big brown hopeful eyes and childish innocence that Castiel would fight to the death to keep in his little brother. Samandriel pushed out his lower lip like he would need the help.

“Please, Castiel?” he pleaded earnestly. “I wanna be a knight, and Charlie says I’m good at it!”

Castiel looked at Charlie, offering her a thankful smile, wondering how the hell she knew exactly how to help his little brother retreat a little more from inside of himself, back out into the open. She offered him a small smile, the smile of a girl who grew up for the last several years in and out of different foster homes, the smile of a girl who knew what it felt like to be locked inside of herself, wanting to be the hero of the story more than anything in the entire world. Castiel turned back to his little brother and knelt down to put Samandriel’s hat back on his head, paying more attention to his hands than his little brother’s big begging eyes.

“Well,” Castiel drew out exaggeratedly, and Dean couldn’t help but to laugh, “if the queen calls for you, then who am I to argue?”

“I’ll handle Michael,” Gabriel assured their little brother, sharing a smirk with Castiel over Sammy’s head. “My ways of persuasion are even better than your puppy dog eyes there, kiddo.”

“I don’t want to know,” Castiel told him honestly before turning back to his friends, smiling in sheepish apology, and a little bit of relief. “Thanks, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

“Not so fast,” Dean said, and then swooped forward to pull Castiel into a tame kiss, all too aware of their audience. Gabriel wolf-whistled and Charlie whooped teasingly the way she did most all of the times they kissed in public. Dean left a kiss on his forehead before pulling back, smiling small but not embarrassed, and murmured, “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Castiel told him fondly, rolling his eyes. He waved one more time before they exited the tent, Samandriel holding onto his hand again, and Charlie and Dean sacrificed a farewell wave again before the curtain closed and shut them back away, leaving Castiel and his brothers back out in the cold. Castiel shoved his free hand back instead of his jacket, shivering, and Gabriel huffed unhappily, probably thinking ahead about how they would have to look for a Christmas tree outdoors in this weather.

They barely made it five tents down before Samandriel looked up and asked, “When do we get to be knights?”

“Maybe next month,” Castiel replied as Gabriel snorted with laughter, entertained at quiet Samandriel’s impatience. “They host this about once a month, depending on when during the year it is. We can stop by in the winter months for training and then, when the spring comes and they move to the big park, we can be knighted. How about that?”

“Okay,” Samandriel said, practically shaking with excitement, wearing a huge smile. Castiel smiled back, feeling a warm bubble of thankfulness and pride in his chest for his little brother, who would one day be okay. He would learn that he was allowed to like things, and that he was allowed to believe in things other than what their father taught them to believe in. Samandriel, in the end, would be okay. And if it was fake sword fighting and pretending to be a knight that made that smile come back to his brother’s face, then Castiel would wear whatever outfit was shoved his way and fight as many of the enemy as he could as long as his little brother was happy.

Castiel wondered if, one day, he would be able to thank Charlie properly for this. Maybe he would tell her about the way Samandriel burrowed under all of their siblings in fear in the nights they could hear their father slamming doors downstairs, or he would tell Charlie about that time that Samandriel had yelled at their father to stop hurting Castiel and Castiel had to tackle their father to distract him from hitting the youngest, the one that couldn’t dream of defending himself from a grown man. Castiel wondered if he would be able to show Charlie how grateful he was with words, or if that would be impossible, because his gratitude extended beyond words and actions and things that could be seen and touched. Castiel didn’t know how to thank Charlie for this little kindness that would go so far, even if it were just for a few weeks or a few months, because there were not enough words in any language for how Castiel felt.

He figured he would tell her someday, someday when Samandriel didn’t flinch at every loud noise and Castiel didn’t pace the halls and check on the breathing of his siblings, even though they were safe. Someday that would be coming soon, he might find a way to tell her. Or, maybe, he wouldn’t ever find those words. Maybe, he didn’t have to, and Charlie already had enough of an idea.

One day, Castiel would figure that out. But, today, he was just going to listen to Gabriel singing along to the radio, and Samandriel letting out a small laugh every time Gabriel got those words wrong. Today was a good day, and Castiel was just going to keep living and, for once, stop thinking.

He figured that, maybe, he deserved a little of that.

~*~

Castiel figured that, if there was a place where he should have been surprised to run into Sam Winchester, that place shouldn’t have been the local public library. Castiel had only been there a handful of times, and usually with one of his siblings who were there to check out a book and not necessarily linger, but today was one of those days that Castiel was starting to feel a little too trapped in his own home, feeling like the walls were falling in on him, and a run didn’t feel like it would be enough, so he decided in a change of scenery. The Lawrence library seemed a good place to get away with lost hours in near silence, surrounded by a lot of voices and faces he didn’t recognize and, God willing, wouldn’t recognize him, either.

The library was larger than most every other library Castiel had seen other than a university library—Dean told him that, a few years ago, they had expanded on the structure, turning average sized into giant. Castiel liked that it wasn’t small, because it gave him more opportunities to pace through new stacks, to look through more sections when he felt too restless to sit. It gave him more places to hide away in quiet when he needed to sit still and just let the world turn without him.

Castiel was sitting at one of the long tables with a book on profiling sitting in front of him when a figure sat down across from him despite the whole rest of the table being open, and Castiel looked up curiously and found Sam Winchester grinning at him from behind a small stack of books.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam greeted, always friendly and easy to talk to. Castiel smiled almost like a reflex around Sam, and not only because he was Dean’s little brother. Sam was a kind, charismatic kid. Castiel couldn’t imagine a soul on earth that _didn’t_ like the boy.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel welcomed him in kind. He looked toward the books. “School project?”

“History,” Sam explained, laying out books on World War II carefully in front of him, respectful of the pages that didn’t belong to him. “There’s a baseball game on tonight or something, so I figured I would come here to avoid the inevitable noise.”

Castiel remembered hearing a sports report playing on the television Balthazar was commandeering, to Hael’s obvious dismay, and nodded. “Quiet always helps.”

“Do you have an essay, too?” Sam asked, glancing curiously at the book. “Or is that for fun?”

“Fun, believe it or not,” Castiel replied, grinning. “I’ve always been good at reading people. I can’t tell if it is more of a natural trait, or a developed one. I wasn’t very social until we came here.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both,” Sam offered, not asking. Castiel appreciated that. “So Dean mentioned you’re staying in Lawrence for school?”

Castiel nodded. Sam looked at him, taking a moment to consider what to say next.

“I kind of expected you to go somewhere else,” Sam finally confessed honestly. “I didn’t know if you’d go back to Illinois or anything, but I didn’t figure you’d pick here, since it’s not like you’ve lived here that long. And I know you’re not the kind of guy to choose a college for a guy, especially my asshole brother.”

Castiel rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the dig on Dean, because the Winchester boys loved each other by never admitting they cared about each other. It was a strange dynamic but, since Castiel came from a family where that declaration is mostly gone unsaid, he wasn’t in a position to judge.

“I’m not entirely sure why I choose Kansas University,” Castiel admitted diplomatically. “I suppose my decision plays into how I don’t know necessarily what I want my profession to be, so I can’t go and handpick a school in regards to a department, and I guess it also plays into my family being here. A safety net, I suppose, where I didn’t think there would be one. It wouldn’t be impossible to weigh Dean into it, as well as Charlie, but they’re not the only reason. I think I’m just sick of not knowing where to go.”

“Dean was really worried you would leave, but he wasn’t going to say anything, because he’s emotionally constipated.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to laugh. “He only is when he’s afraid of what the answer will be, or if he is sure he knows the answer is not going to be the one in his favor. But, ultimately, yes. He is, a little bit. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Of course not,” Sam replied, and he actually sounded sincere. “I was just wondering, I guess. You’ve only been here like six months, and they haven’t really been good ones, so I was half expecting you to take off the second you had a chance.”

“I would have, if I was in Pontiac.” Castiel leaned back in his chair, putting a bookmark into the spine of his novel and closing it carefully to give him a moment to calm down his anxiously beating heart. “My brothers, my older ones, they left. The moment they could, they left that house, and Michael was the only one to come back, and even that wasn’t a common occurrence. I guess my family, my siblings at least, we didn’t look for colleges—we looked for a way out. Now, we don’t have to, but if we hadn’t left, if my father hadn’t been caught? I would have considered going to another country. Or I might have stayed for my siblings. I don’t know. I’m just glad I don’t have to make that choice, you know?”

Sam didn’t know. Castiel didn’t know why he asked it, blindly seeking validation for his beliefs, feeling like he was preaching at the alter of an empty church, the lone believer.

But Sam nodded, slowly, and maybe Hael had told him about the way it used to be like at home, or maybe Sam had figured it out on his own. Dean could have told him, but Castiel felt like that was something he wouldn’t share unless Castiel told him he could. Maybe he just found out from the news, because someone must have dug up the charges against Emmanuel Novak by his fourth eldest, the ones that scream child mistreatment and endangerment and assault on a minor. Perhaps Sam just figured it out all on his own, using context clues. Castiel supposed that it didn’t really matter, because he was sick of jumping at shadows. The more of the truth he didn’t have to smother, even the worst of it, helped him feel like he could walk outdoors without the sky falling down around his ears.

Sam said, “You know, a couple of weeks ago, I was thinking about cornering you at school and giving you that whole hurt-my-brother-and-I’ll-kill-you speech.”

Castiel blinked, not expecting those words at all, but smiled anyway, because that was obviously what Sam was trying to get him to do. Fueled by Castiel’s show of amusement, Sam kept going.

“I know it’s pretty elementary, but I’ve never seen Dean look at someone like he looks at you, and I was still worried that you would just leave Lawrence after graduation and never come back and all of that, so I was totally going to play over-protective siblings as if that would actually stop you, if you really wanted to leave. But then, the day I was gonna ask to talk to you, I saw you sitting in the courtyard with Dean, and he must have been talking about some nerdy television show or something because he was just ranting and going on and on and on, but you didn’t stop him, and you just kept smiling, and I—I guess that’s when I realized I didn’t have to say anything, you know? I had a feeling you wouldn’t break his heart. You didn’t look like you would be able to live with yourself if you ever did.”

Castiel stared at Sam, taken aback, wondering where all of this wisdom had come from, wondering how old Sam had to grow in the days where Dean had to take care of him, and then when their father didn’t come home. Sam was fourteen, but he could have been a thousand years old. Castiel was staring at his boyfriend’s little brother, but he could have been staring at himself at sixteen, standing bloodied in front of a mirror and vowing to always throw himself onto the metaphorical knife, or maybe when he used to linger in the back of the classroom and watch everyone interacting and thinking about which of them was the weak one like his father had taught him, deathly afraid of having the advantage of that knowledge.

Sam had been through a lot in his life, and he struggled to prove that he was better than the kid that some would label him. Castiel knew a damn bit about that, even if the idea was newer to him, and Castiel couldn’t help but to look at Sam and think that they were going to be much better friends than he had expected.

“You don’t have to warn me,” Castiel finally remembered to say, and Sam nodded in response, looking down to nervously fiddle with the books.

“Good,” Sam muttered, and then looked up with a smirk. “Hael totally did, though. Apparently she cornered Dean and threatened to murder him if he hurt you, giving him a whole earful about how you wouldn’t deserve it and all that. Hael said he looked freaked, but also a little amused.”

“He knows Hael wouldn’t hurt him,” Castiel agreed, “but I don’t think he’s as sure about my older brothers.”

Sam snorted in agreement. “You’ve only got about twelve of them.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and turned back to his book, flipping it open in his attempt to pointedly ignore the youngest Winchester. Sam laughed before following suit, taking to his own books and pulling out a notebook and, soon, the two of them were sharing a comfortable silence, not needing to say a word, and Castiel started to feel much less trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters left! 
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	20. What State I Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my sanity hiatus and ready to finish some stories! Namely, this one.

Castiel expected the unexplainable to begin occurring again now that Gabriel was back to living at home and was currently out of school. However, he did not expect the morning where Gabriel pulled up in front of the house driving a mini-bus, laid on the horn, and screamed, “Get in, losers, we’re going on a road trip!”

He wished it were the first time this had happened. He also wished this time he had the ability to say no to his brother’s face but, almost to his surprise, twenty minutes later he found himself strapped into the seat catty corner to Gabriel at the wheel with all of his siblings but Michael squeezed into the seats behind them, energized at the change in pace and curious about what Gabriel’s idea of a road trip was. Castiel somehow didn’t even feel the need to start questioning it until Gabriel merged onto the highway, whistling under his breath.

“Where are we going?” he finally demanded, ignoring Balthazar, sitting behind Gabriel, who was leading their other siblings in a chorus of 99 Bottles. Gabriel glanced over at him before smirking in a manner that made fear flood into Castiel’s veins.

“Hmm, who knows?” Gabriel replied teasingly. He jerked the wheel to the right, cutting off a sedan. The driver sat on his horn, directing rude gestures toward Gabriel, who didn’t even seem to notice. Castiel grabbed the half-wall in front of him with a deathly grip, closing his eyes for a few moments and counting to ten in an effort to slow his rapidly beating heart.

“How long have you been planning this?”

Gabriel snorted as he swerved into the passing lane. “Cassie, I don’t plan. I _do_. I’m a mover and a shaker. I’m offended you even asked me that question.”

Sometimes, Gabriel was one of Castiel’s favorite of his brothers, although he knew that he realistically would never choose a favorite. Gabriel was a perfect distraction from the bad, and he didn’t talk about it unless it was what _Castiel_ wanted to talk about. He helped take Castiel’s mind off of the bad when that was what he so desperately needed, and he didn’t force questions onto Castiel when he had every right to. He let Castiel talk on his own, gave him the space he needed, and he was there when Castiel would seek him out, if he ever did. Gabriel, while spontaneous and unpredictable, was also reliable and kind, even calm, when he wanted to be.

When he didn’t want to be, he showed up in a bus without preamble and pointed them east.

Today was not one of the days where he was Castiel’s favorite.

“This wasn’t planned?” Castiel demanded, voice flat. Realization set in and Castiel had to pause for a moment to have another quiet count to ten before rounding on Gabriel with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Does Michael know about it?”

Gabriel ignored him, smirking a little bit, which was all the answer that Castiel needed.

“Gabriel!” Castiel objected, although it was definitely too late, and even he had to admit that this was pretty amusing and creative, even for Gabriel. “This counts as kidnapping!”

“Only if someone calls the police and I get caught,” he pointed out, side-eyeing Castiel. “And that’s not going to happen, is it, little brother?”

“We at least need to tell Michael so he doesn’t come back to the house and think the worst,” Castiel argued, entirely logically, he might add, digging into his pocket for his phone. The second he pulled it out, clicking the home button to bring the screen to life, the phone was swiftly yanked out of his hand and passed by a smirking Gabriel to Balthazar, who immediately snagged it and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, grinning smugly. Castiel gaped between the two of them, mouth open simply because he couldn’t decide on what he wanted to say first.

Balthazar laughed loud enough to cut through the obnoxious song he had taught the impressionable youths and leaned over to pat Castiel’s shoulder like it was a comfort. “Live a little, Cassie. You of all of us need to relax.”

“Think of it as a mini-vacation!” Gabriel cheered, grinning up into the rearview mirror. “Right, kids?”

Hael, Inias, and Samandriel paused their singing to let out a whoop. Castiel turned around to send them a betrayed look and Anna caught his eye, smiling sheepishly and shrugging, looking a little energized herself. He had to admit, even he was a little curious, perhaps a little excited. Castiel couldn’t remember the last time they had a vacation, mini or anything else. Maybe they deserved it, even in the unconventional way that Gabriel decided was family bonding time. Castiel didn’t know what would kill any of his older brothers to just tell Michael that they were out of town to help prevent the poor guy from going gray, but he certainly wasn’t about to demand they turn around.

But, still, he played the part expected of him, sighing heavily in defeat and slumping in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest like he was moments away from pouting. Gabriel scoffed at his theatrics like he wasn’t the biggest drama queen any of them had met and Balthazar rolled his eyes, seeing right through Castiel like he was a newly cleaned window. His siblings continued their song with gusto, laughing loudly and changing the tempo every few verses, all of them screeching in terror when Gabriel cut someone off and sent them leaning into each other, an event that happened about once every minute. Castiel gazed behind him at his siblings all huddled toward the aisle with big grins on their faces, Balthazar waving his arms as if he was conducting them through their horrible song, and Castiel couldn’t help but to laugh at the craziness of it all, at the way even something like this was enough to make them feel free.

If someone had told Castiel one year ago that this is where he would be—sitting on a mini-bus that Gabriel was driving, watching his siblings laugh and sing silly songs, a boyfriend who loves him waiting for him back home—he would have laughed right in their face. He would have thought it was the cruelest of all jokes, to mock him for never being able to be free. And yet, here they were. Their father was in jail and their lives were amazing and happy, and they could do things like this. If they felt like it, they could absolutely get on that bus and go visit somewhere with no consequences. They were allowed to be silly, to be kids.

Castiel had to grow up too fast, but there was still a chance to save his younger siblings from that fate, to let them be a kid for just a little longer. Hael was getting older but she looked just like she did when she was seven at the moments she laughed, her nose scrunched up and her eyes squinted and her smile bright. Inias was nearly a teenager but there was still something childlike to the way he was singing at the top of his lungs and nodding his head to the questionable beat like it was one of his favorite songs, something alive in his eyes that Castiel hadn’t seen since hide-and-seek in the backyard until it was too dark and their mother’s voice wandered out to find them, calling them back in. And Samandriel, perched half on Inias’s lap, was still so much of a kid, the spirit and heart of one, and he was having the time of his life being able to sing the loudest, to have his siblings laughing with him when he made a mistake, shyness nowhere to be seen when he was surrounded by the people he loved.

Castiel wasn’t sure how long he watched them just goofing off, long enough that his neck was starting to ache and he was becoming all too aware of how his grin was edging onto the side of weepy. He turned back to face the front in time to spy Gabriel glancing into the rearview mirror toward their siblings as well, a happy smile on his face. When he caught Castiel looking, Gabriel wagged his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the road. Castiel looked back at him, feeling a new kind of smile tugging onto his lips, something thankful, finally seeming to understand what Gabriel was doing.

So Castiel sat back and let the miles disappear behind them, let himself stop worrying about things that didn’t have to be his full responsibility, and closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of his siblings having fun, letting himself live.

~*~

They had to have been on the bus for a little over four hours before Gabriel finally pulled off of the highway to St. Louis, Missouri, ignoring when the others started to ask him where they were going. However, it didn’t take them long to find out for themselves—Gabriel dutifully began to follow the directions for the downtown aquarium after a few minutes, and smiled excitedly when Anna was the first one to guess it right.

After a slightly humiliating exchange between Gabriel and the parking lot attendant (who looked rather startled at the mini-bus as Gabriel rolled down the window to yell, “Hey, can we park here?”), and after dealing with a rather harried woman working at the ticket window for two children’s tickets, two teen’s, and three student’s—they finally were allowed admittance to the aquarium, sticking together in an unspoken agreement and heading together for the first gathering of tanks, all of them equally as eager even though their age difference from oldest to youngest was about fourteen years, and it was amazing.

Castiel, for the most part, let the others drag him around and point him in the right direction, never feeling like he was going to miss out on seeing something he wanted to see because his siblings seemed determined to witness it all. He was dragged to tanks of different colors and sizes, of fish from what seemed like everywhere. Hael was most amused by the puffer fish, and Anna squealed with delight when she spotted a cluster of clown fish, joking with Samandriel about how they were all named Nemo. Balthazar and Inias seemed more taken with the tank of sharks, the kind of which Castiel didn’t have a name for, but they both looked entirely excited every time one swam close to the glass. Gabriel, meanwhile, seemed the most intrigued by the tank of electric eels, his grin wide and mischievous, and Castiel probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Gabriel would find solace in one of the members of the fish kingdom that could easily turn and zap someone in the ass.

Castiel turned out to be the one that was absolutely captivated by the dolphins.

He didn’t know what it was about them. He did know that Gabriel teased him about it by saying that they should go out and buy him some movie about Winter the Dolphin and how it would make him cry, to Balthazar’s shared mirth, but he didn’t understand the reference, and he didn’t busy himself with worrying about what they meant. He liked watching the dolphins cut through the water as if to chase each other, gracefully twisting around, weightless. Castiel used to think a lot about flying, and he figured that flying would be kind of like the way dolphins moved, slicing through the world around them and seeming to love every moment of it.

The plaques told him that they were intelligent creatures, the ones in this aquarium raised in captivity for most of their lives, a small family that had been rescued after a shark attack and shipped around until they found a permanent home here. Anna caught him staring in wonder into the tank, a bright grin that practically hurt his cheeks on his face, and he didn’t even have the opportunity to be embarrassed before she was beaming at him, joining him to watch them play tag without a word. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there.

Castiel had figured, after Balthazar’s comment about him needing to live a little back when they were still in Kansas, that at least a little bit of this vacation was going to be his brothers forcing to him to enjoy himself by any means necessary, although he knew it wasn’t the only motive, and he turned out to be right. Gabriel wasted no time during the dolphin show to volunteer Castiel when they asked for one, which resulted in Castiel dragging Samandriel with him to pet the dolphins and hold up hoops for them to jump through, Anna snapping pictures excitedly as the rest of them cheered them on. And even though Castiel came out of the experience both gratified and embarrassed, he couldn’t help but to wish he could come up with the right words to say to thank them.

It wasn’t until much later, until hours later when they left the aquarium at closing and headed instead for a burger joint down the street to shove food into their faces before they were forced to head back home, that Castiel began to understand the reason behind why Gabriel came up with their whole day. It wasn’t until everyone was winding down, Anna showing off the pictures she had taken to Balthazar, who found immense amusement in it, and Samandriel nodding off against the tabletop, clutching the clown fish plush he had been treated to. Hael and Inias were excitedly discussing which was the best of the exhibits, agreeing for once, which was nothing short of a miracle. Castiel sat in the middle of the chaos sipping his shake and watching the others around him all buzzing with the high of today, one of the better days, when he noticed that there was one other sibling that wasn’t partaking, just calmly watching. He was a little surprised to find Gabriel so quiet at his spot at the head of the table, sitting there and stirring his chocolate shake with his French fries before popping them in his mouth, smiling in amusement every time Balthazar and Anna laughed, or Samandriel’s head started to hit the table, or Hael and Inias started getting a little loud in their excitement and got the warning eyes from the other patrons to keep it down, which they ultimately ignored, and Castiel started to get it.

Years ago, Gabriel had been the first of them to leave. Michael went to college first, but Gabriel was the first one that left in the middle of the night with no contact information, never to be heard of again until four years later, when he showed up just in time to see their father arrested for multiple homicides. Gabriel was the first one to leave them behind to whatever wrath their father might show at not being able to follow him and force him back, and Castiel wasn’t even sure that Gabriel knew exactly what had happened once he was gone. But Castiel was beginning to understand, and he was beginning to see.

Gabriel didn’t know, and he was never the kind of person who would ask. He wasn’t that kind of person—he liked to live on the edges of the action if he wasn’t the one in the middle, and that kind of thing would be too sensitive of a topic for him to touch. Gabriel felt like he had abandoned their family when he left, leaving a legacy that Balthazar followed identically two years later. Gabriel knew he was one of the first dominoes to fall, allowing for the slow destruction of their whole family and their father.

This was Gabriel’s way of apologizing.

Gabriel was the kind of person that lived by the policy of asking for forgiveness instead of permission, and he wasn’t the type of person to address them directly when apologizing for something like that, for something like what he did. Maybe it was partially because he didn’t know what to say, or maybe even because Gabriel didn’t even know if he was sorry. Castiel could understand both of those. And it made sense, for Gabriel’s character, that he would want to do it like this.

This was Gabriel’s way of making up for all of the time he missed, for letting their family seem unimportant to him, for the instability he left behind. It was a subtle apology, but Castiel heard loud and clear what Gabriel was trying to do, trying to relearn all of his siblings again because he was always busy or gone, trying to give them something positive to think of when his name came up. Gabriel was the trickster of the family and he always had been—and Castiel knew he always would be—but he also had a heart of gold, and Gabriel loved his family fiercely. This was just one of the ways he showed it, and Castiel heard it loud and clear.

Like Gabriel sensed Castiel had figured it out, he glanced over at him, catching his eye. Castiel wasn’t going to say anything, because he knew his brother wouldn’t want him to, so he sufficed with sacrificing a small smile of understanding, hopefully one that Gabriel would know the meaning of. And he couldn’t help but to think that Gabriel _did_ understand, by the peaceful way that he smiled back, looking away to take a sip of his shake and lean over to admire one of the photos Anna was offering him, laughing loudly at whatever was on the screen.

Castiel was of the firsts to fall asleep on the way back home to the sound of Gabriel humming to the radio and Anna speaking softly on the phone to who he assumed was Garth, letting the bus rock him to sleep, feeling warm and safe and surrounded by those he loved, and he couldn’t help but to think that this mini-vacation had been possibly the best idea Gabriel had ever had.

~*~

Castiel blinked awake the moment the bus pulled to a full and complete stop, the engine shutting off. He squinted through the darkness to where Gabriel was calmly pocketing the keys and opening up the doors, humming to himself and already grinning like he saw something coming. Castiel didn’t even have the time to guess before there was the sound of a door slamming followed instantly by the sound of Michael’s voice.

“Gabriel!” Michael hissed angrily, echoed by the sound of him stomping toward him. Gabriel shushed him.

“They’re sleeping,” Gabriel informed him. “All of them were out like a light by the Kansas border. Bless their precious little hearts.”

Castiel couldn’t see them, but he would have bet money that Michael’s eye twitched.

“Where the hell have you been?” Michael demanded, voice rising just a little bit louder. One of Castiel’s siblings made a shuffling sound, like they were rolling over. “Jesus Christ, Gabriel, I was about to call the fucking police, do you understand that? You didn’t call or text me, or even leave a goddamn note! I didn’t know what happened! I was worried out of my freaking mind!”

“But it’s nearly midnight, and you haven’t called them yet. Why is that?”

Michael was silent for a moment before he let out a long sigh and said, “Because you and Balthazar and Castiel weren’t there, either. And I trusted you three to take care of the others. But I really was getting worried, you prick.”

Gabriel didn’t reply for a second. It took Castiel a moment to realize that it only sounded like Gabriel wasn’t replying because he was silently laughing. “Oh, Michael,” Gabriel laughed, sounding a little amused, and a little fond. “Jeez, you and Castiel are the same, you know that? You’re both too busy looking out for the family and _only_ the family to take some time to breathe and relax. The two of you need to take a step back and think about something other than other people every once in a while. You’re both giving me a headache just being around you.”

Michael sighed, but he sounded a little like he was chastised, knowing that Gabriel was right. The reason Castiel and Michael coexisted so easily is because they had similar priorities, and a mutual understanding that family was the most important thing. Maybe Gabriel was right in assuming that they should be making a little more room for everyone else in their lives, and worrying a little less about some people that could handle themselves plenty well.

Castiel knew it, and he knew Michael probably did as well, but it was still different for both of them. There were some things they would both hang on to—Castiel to the days where he was the sole protector, and Michael to the knowledge that he was the new father figure to all of these siblings that needed one. Perhaps they both needed to take a step back and question their own involvement, sometimes. It might not be a bad thing, but maybe Castiel and Michael cared a little too much, hung on a little too tight.

Castiel never would have thought Gabriel was so wise, but perhaps he should have known better. After all, Gabriel was the first person that saw their father for who he is, and he was the first one smart enough to pick up and get the hell out of there because of it.

The next words out of Michael’s mouth were a change of subject, but he did sound much more tired, and even a little guilty: “Did they at least have fun?”

“We had the time of our lives, big brother,” Gabriel replied a little sarcastically, but sobered just enough to say, “We just needed a break, Michael, and I knew you needed one too. You can be mad at me all you want, but leave the rest of them alone. I think we all needed this.”

Michael didn’t reply for a moment before he asked quietly, “Do you need help getting them in?”

“I was just going to sit on the horn.”

Michael sighed in what must have been a mixture of annoyance and amusement, and moments later Michael was coming up the handful of stairs and onto the bus, eyes glancing around curiously. He spotted Castiel first, since he was right in the front and the only one blinking up at him, halfway to consciousness, and he smiled. Castiel bit back a yawn and rubbed his eyes, still blinking spastically.

“You need help with them?” Castiel whispered, biting back another yawn. Michael shook his head but Castiel knew it was a lie, so he just nodded and pushed himself onto his feet, quietly creeping into the bus, leading the way. He paused at Anna as Michael shook Balthazar awake, murmuring something to him as he did. Castiel reached out to do the same to Anna but couldn’t bring himself to wake her, not when she was curled in a ball and using her hands as a pillow under her cheek, her red hair a mess and her mouth open in a small O. He cracked his back before he leaned down and maneuvered her around until he could scoop her up into his arms, not finding her nearly as heavy as he expected, but certainly still heavy enough. Michael and a sleepy Balthazar stepped into the seats to allow them to pass, Gabriel standing at the foot of the bus stairs. He raised an eyebrow at Castiel’s logic but didn’t question it, letting him be the first to file into the house, his little sister and best friend in his arms.

Castiel walked with Anna carefully and quietly, making his way up the steps and hanging a right to the master bedroom, nudging the door open, trying not to jostle her. Anna was quiet and still in his arms, deep asleep, breathing evenly. She didn’t even stir when he finally let her down on her bed, pulling off her shoes and tucking her under the covers, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

Castiel paused for a second, looking down at his sister. She looked a couple of years younger in sleep, carefree. She looked like the years right before it all went wrong, right before Balthazar left too and their father had enough, back when all she cared about was if people at school and church liked her and what club she should join next year. He suddenly couldn’t breathe at the thought that she could have that again, that they both could. That he had protected them through the worst of it, and he had stood as protector, but he didn’t need to do that anymore. They didn’t need him on the front lines. He didn’t need to be a soldier anymore.

It was as much of a comfort as it was a bit of a heartbreak. Castiel pushed the emotions back as he leaned forward and kissed his sister on the forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open for Gabriel, who was at the top of the stairs with Hael. He headed straight for his own bedroom door, forcing himself up the stairs and to the bed, sprawling down on top of it, relaxing into the familiar surface and smells.

Today had been one of the best days. It had let him fly, and it had let him be free.

He wouldn’t be able to thank Gabriel in enough pounds of candy for that, but maybe one day he would try.

~*~

“I think my father tried to train me to be like him.”

Castiel didn’t know what possessed him to say it, but he did. He broke the silence that he and Dean were so good at being comfortable with to tell him that as they laid on Castiel’s bed, listening to one of Dean’s favorite albums playing softly from Castiel’s laptop on the desk. Dean raised his head to look at him, startled at the interruption, but not saying anything to get Castiel to stop. Castiel just looked back at him, chewing on his lip.

Dean sat up to lean against the wall behind Castiel’s bed, waiting patiently for him to continue, curious. Castiel pushed himself up and wiggled to the top of the bed so he could lean close, seeking the physical comfort that Dean’s proximity typically allowed him. He took a deep breath, leaning his head onto Dean’s shoulder, and Dean shifted so his arm could hook around him, holding him tightly to his side.

“I didn’t think of it that way, at the time,” Castiel continued slowly, almost carefully. “I mean, obviously, since we had no idea who my father would turn out to be, but I mean—I didn’t start thinking about this until lately, since I’ve been spending more time thinking about college and wondering what to study. But my father, with my brothers and me, he was the first that started asking about it. He would figure out what we found interesting and teach us everything he knew or could find about it. Like, he taught Michael things about law, and medicine with Gabriel, and how to speak compellingly to Balthazar. He wanted us to harness our best skills, I suppose. But I’m starting to think it wasn’t so simple.

“He used to teach me about people. Sociology, behavioral science, that kind of thing. He taught me how to read someone’s body language and their voice and how to know how to act around those people. He taught me about how to stay hidden in a crowd, to remain unmemorable if that was what I wanted. He taught me how to be charming like him, and compelling, but at the time I thought he was just trying to help, you know? I always used to be this quiet kid that sat in the back of the room. I never had many friends, and I didn’t socialize much outside of my family and the church. I just thought he was trying to teach me how to come out of my shell, to fake it until I made it. I thought he was looking out for me.

“But, recently, I was thinking back. And I don’t see it in the same way anymore. It’s just—now that I know who he was, what he has done, I realized that he wasn’t teaching us to use our skills, but that he was teaching us his. He was planting us like sleeper cells in the places where others wouldn’t think to look—a lawyer, a doctor, a successful businessman, an officer. Michael would know how to get him out a bind, Gabriel would be able to deal with medicines and questionable injuries, Balthazar could talk himself and other people out of anything, and I would be able to tell him who would and wouldn’t fight back, and why.”

Castiel looked to Dean. He looked a little pale, but he didn’t look away, not even when he knew that Castiel could see how it was starting to disturb him. Castiel smiled a little, hoping it was reassuring, and shook his head.

“I don’t know if I’m overthinking it or not. I never thought of it like that until recently, thinking about the things he used to teach me, and the things he’s said to me. It just made me think—what if there was more to it than just a father talking to a son he hated to love? What if he was conditioning me to be the bigger, better, deluxe version of the person he was?”

“Cas,” Dean said, but didn’t seem to know what else to say after that.

“He taught me self-defense and how to stay hidden. He taught me how to get out of sticky situations, and how to use the way I acted—introverted, socially unavailable—as a weapon. I can’t help but to keep thinking that the one thing I had left of him acting like a father was actually just him hoping that I would be just like him. I’m starting to wonder if he hopes that’s what’s going to happen anyway, because I have all of the connections he did, and I have all of the possible places to start from. And it terrifies me, Dean. I used to be scared of being like my father, and now I’m realizing he gave me all of the tools I would need, and I _could_.”

“But that doesn’t mean you _have_ to use them like that,” Dean argued calmly, trapping Castiel in his gaze. “Look at your brothers—Michael is using his law degree to help people, and Gabriel is going to be a doctor and save people’s lives, though I dread to think of the people whose life is in his hands, the guy is like an ADD hurricane. Balthazar wants to work for charities. He might have taught you guys these things with the intent of you becoming monsters, but that’s not what happened. You guys controlled your own destiny, and you can use those advantages he gave you for any reason at all. He taught you how to read people, but you don’t need to use it the way he would want you to. You can never use it again for all it matters. What I’m trying to say is, don’t let something he tried to make you become be the only person you think you’re allowed to be, because that’s not how it works as long as you don’t let it.”

Castiel didn’t say anything for a moment. Dean, a blessing and an angel in the disguise of an eighteen-year-old boy, sat and waited for him to think, letting him come to his own conclusions.

Castiel, eventually, whispered, “You’re right. And I—I think I want to use it to help people, however that may be. I don’t want to be like him. I never want to be like him.”

“Okay,” Dean murmured back, kissing the top of his head. And then, because he was Dean and it was like he sometimes simply couldn’t help himself, he added teasingly, “ _Agent_.”

Castiel hit him as best as he could, too close to do much damage, but it still made Dean laugh loud, filling up the empty spaces of the room around them, making the dimming light come alive. Castiel snuggled closer as their familiar silence started to return, just as loud and bright and lovely as the laughter that Dean left behind, but Dean didn’t give it much of a chance to settle before speaking again.

“I’m proud of you,” Dean announced suddenly, blushing when Castiel looked up at him in surprised. “I am. You’ve been through so much shit, you and your whole family but you especially, and you came out of it wanting to help people. You were dealt a shit hand and you’re still a great person and selfless and kind even though people don’t expect you to be, and I just—I really love you, and I’m really proud of you for being who you are. But I think I’m gonna stop talking now, before I keep embarrassing myself.”

“I love you so much,” Castiel told him sincerely, feeling like he was drowning in how much he loved and admired the man he could call his, winding his arms around Dean and squeezing them closer, until it felt like their hearts were beating as one. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I didn’t do much to be thanked for, Cas,” Dean pointed out, sheepish, but still accepted the embrace, holding Castiel back just as tight. Castiel shook his head, face buried in Dean’s shoulder.

“Yes, you did,” Castiel disagreed, pulling away to look up at him. “Not a lot of people would have looked at me like you did if I told them that. You believed I could be better—they would believe I was lost. So thank you for believing in me, even though other people might not. Thank you for _always_ believing in me.”

“Again,” Dean said, smiling a little but leaning down to kiss Castiel firmly, “not really something I need to be thanked for.”

Castiel figured there might come a day where he would make Dean understand how much he had helped, how much he had let Castiel feel like a human who deserved it. He would tell him, later on when Dean believed he was worthy of that kind of love and gratitude, because they were both works in progress. They were both a little broken from the things that happened to them, from their fathers, but they would make it out of the storm. Together, they would power through the bad and end up in the good. He and Dean had been through a lot, both together and separately, and they made it. Lying there with Christmas lights twinkling and blinking through the window and Dean’s heart beating steadily under his cheek, Castiel couldn’t help but to think that they could take on the world and make it out alright, because it was him and Dean.

They would make it. There might be a struggle, and some bumps and bruises, but they would come out of this victorious. And, when they did, they will still have each other, and Castiel let himself drift off to sleep in the arms of the man he loved with the thought of forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Only two more chapters left!!
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Kay


	21. In Love's Embraces Met

Christmas began with Michael barreling through the hallways just after dawn, frantically ringing a belt of loud jingle bells as he went, kicking on doors as he cheerfully yelled into the empty air for them to wake up, that Santa had been there, and that he had even made breakfast. Castiel groaned from his spot slightly away from the action, separated by a little bit of space but not at all spared, and barely managed to crawl from his warm bed sheets down the stairs to the second floor, stumbling out into the crowd of his siblings, who looked just as harried. Anna blinked at him owlishly, wrapped up tightly in her KU sweatshirt, and shrugged at his questioning look. Michael appeared at the bottom of the stairs, practically vibrating with energy.

“Merry Christmas!” he yelled up at them, grinning widely. “I made pancakes!”

Gabriel, sprawled on the floor outside of his bedroom, let out a high-pitched whine. “ _No_ ,” he complained into the carpet. “It’s so _early_.”

Michael’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest. “Breakfast and then presents!”

“Presents?” Hael and Samandriel chorused, Hael surprised and Samandriel cheerful. Michael somehow grinned wider, looking nearly psychopathic. It wasn’t until then that Castiel’s tired brain finally caught up, and he stared directly at the garland and glittering lights wrapped around the stair railing, and then further, past Michael, to where the whole area behind him was covered in some of the same, the tops of all table-like surfaces sprinkled with fake snow. There were even paper chains of red, green, and gold lining the front door.

Balthazar seemed to notice at the same time and whispered low enough that Castiel, standing beside him, may have been the only one to hear him, “What the fuck?”

“Merry Christmas!” Michael cheered again as if he had heard, this time not bothering to wait for the others to start moving before he headed toward the kitchen, calling behind him, “Last one to the table is a rotten egg!”

Samandriel immediately started running down the stairs, followed closely by Gabriel, who, for all of his complaints and laziness, refused to lose at even the most immature of challenges, especially when the incentive to win included sugar. Hael and Inias followed after, shoving at each other playfully as they went, and Anna followed behind them. Balthazar and Castiel hesitated at the top of the stairs, watching the others disappear around the corner and over to the kitchen, and exchanged a glance. Balthazar smirked.

“He wasn’t joking about not going halfway, huh?” Balthazar mused, snorting, before starting down the stairs anyway, heading toward the wafting smell of pancakes. Castiel nodded unnecessarily, still blinking sleepily around the new decorations that had popped up overnight.

“Definitely Christmas,” he muttered before he made his way down the stairs, his growling stomach leading the way.

~*~

Castiel was significantly more awake by the time they segued into the next part of their morning, the older children filled with coffee and the younger hyper on an endless stream of chocolate milk. Even Castiel had to admit that he was a little more than eager—they hadn’t had a Christmas like this, not since he was alive. Michael had told him earlier in the week that, back when he and Gabriel were barely in school and Balthazar was barely born, it used to be like that. It wasn’t long after the household became filled with five that their father’s opinions on the holiday had shifted, finding importance in other people rather than centrally in their family. They had all been deprived this—waking up way too early, eating together, buzzing with anticipation, eyeing the bundle of wrapped gifts flooding out from under the tree. Even Castiel reveled in it, feeling more excited than he expected he would.

In essence, it was all of their first Christmases. Despite the average age between them oldest to youngest being in the high teens, the excitement level of the room was through the roof. Gabriel, having eaten at least twenty pancakes and half a bottle of syrup, was nearly about to burst out of his seat like a rocket and tear through the ceiling.

If Michael had hoped there would be some sort of order once it came time to open presents, he must have immediately been let down, because there was nothing quite like the stampede and chaos of seven child trying to organize the gifts between themselves, while mostly only jockeying for position. Castiel chose to linger at the edges, letting the others essentially do the work, throwing him his boxes as they came across them. Michael was getting a similar treatment a couple of feet away from Castiel, expression despairing as he caught them like a professional shortstop. He caught Castiel’s gaze across the way and rolled his eyes.

The next twenty or so minutes passed in a colorful, chaotic blur. Samandriel’s eyes went wide at the package of plastic dinosaur toys Balthazar got him, Anna squealed loudly at the hair bows that Hael gifted her with, Michael rolled his eyes at Gabriel’s present of Post-Its (“Everyone can always use Post-Its,” Gabriel had lectured him sternly, wagging his finger at their eldest brother) but Michael seemed to have anticipated the gift because it was soon after that Gabriel was throwing his head back and laughing when he opened his box from Michael to discover that the only item inside was a reminder for a dentist appointment for his cavities. Inias and Anna chipped together to buy Hael a new pair of Keds, Michael beamed brightly at the brand new briefcase they had all gotten him, complete with special stationary and a set of fancy fountain pens, and Samandriel hugged Castiel hard around the middle at the fake sword he had gotten him for LARPing.

Gabriel and Balthazar got Castiel a pack of three hundred and sixty condoms. Gabriel had turned red in the face from laughing, but Michael had excused himself so he could open the eggnog at least eight hours early, downing a whole glass before he was able to return to the living room, and he returned only once the buzz seemed to be over, allowing for a big smirk before handing over a box that had been in his pocket to Castiel.

Castiel stared down at it, and then narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Please tell me it’s not more condoms.”

“Castiel,” Michael chastised, but laughed despite himself. “No, it’s not condoms. Just open the box.”

Castiel glanced nervously to Anna, but she was no help, grinning cheekily at him from the group of the rest of his siblings all waiting by and seeming to know what was about to be revealed in the mysterious box, even Samandriel, who was giggling. Castiel, feeling entirely confused and not fully convinced that whatever was in the box wouldn’t make him the butt of a joke, tore the paper off carefully anyway, pausing only half a second before pulling the top of the box off.

He stared. And stared. And stared some more. He looked up at Michael, speechless.

“Yup,” Michael told him, smiling proudly, slapping him on the back. “That’s exactly what you think it is.”

Castiel reached into the box and pulled the car keys out with two fingers, holding it up to the light like they were going to bite. Anna, capturing his reaction from behind her recording phone camera, laughed.

“What are you waiting for, big brother?” she demanded, amused. “Go!”

Castiel pushed himself onto his feet and darted for the front door, his siblings following closely behind and laughing at his eagerness, but all Castiel could feel was cold shock and bright excitement, and disbelief. Castiel skittered to a stop in the outside air, his breath puffing out in front of his eyes as he breathed, but even the slight vapor obstruction didn’t blind him from seeing the golden car parked at the curb that hadn’t been there before.

It was large and gold and Michael was somewhere behind him telling him it was a Lincoln Continental and in good condition, and Gabriel was remarking that it was a pimp car but ran like a dream, but Castiel could barely hear them over the emotional turmoil of his own thoughts, everything he wanted to say lost in incomplete threads of speech. He turned to his siblings and looked at Michael, mouth gaping open. Michael laughed, surging forward to throw his arms around Castiel.

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael told him as he pulled away, clapping Castiel on the shoulder and smiling fondly. “And don’t tell me it’s too much. You’re going to college soon and you’re gonna need it. Not to mention that you absolutely deserve it.”

“Dean helped pick it out,” Anna chimed in, scooting her away to stand beside him, looping her arms around one of his and leaning into him with a big smirk. “He was loathe to admit that the pimp car was the one on the lot in the best condition, but I’m totally looking forward to you driving me and Hael to school for the next like four years.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Castiel finally admitted, his brain catching up to him. He looked between all of his siblings, feeling his face pull into some kind of expression of gratitude and distress. “Thank you. It’s a lot, but thank you.”

“Anytime, little brother,” Gabriel told him, ruffling his hair. “Also, I checked, the backseat is plenty big enough if you and a certain pretty boy wanna get frisky—”

“Gabriel,” Michael snapped, and Gabriel smiled innocently, winking at Castiel. Anna nudged Castiel, drawing his attention back to her, before she leaned a little closer, putting her head on his shoulder.

“Now, if you ever feel trapped,” she murmured, “you have some way to be free. You don’t have to be stuck anymore.”

Castiel pulled back, startled, and looked to her. She smiled a little sadly before raising her eyebrows.

“What?” she demanded. “You think I don’t know my big brother? My best friend, my big hero? You deserve this and more, Castiel. I know you don’t like when we say that, but it’s true. After everything, this is the least we could do for you. Samandriel even bought you a little air freshener shaped like a Christmas tree to commemorate the occasion.”

Castiel wasn’t much of a crier. He rarely shed tears unless he was moments away from breaking down, or until the pain became too much. With him, it was an extreme reaction, either physical or emotional, so it came as a surprise to him to realize that he was crying, just standing in the middle of the front lawn clinging to a set of keys with tears pouring down his face, so incredibly touched and so incredibly grateful. Anna’s eyes softened and she threw her arms around him, squeezing him hard. Castiel clung back, but didn’t get the chance to pull away before another get of arms were being wrapped around them, and then another, until the whole family was wrapped in a huge bear hug in the middle of the December chill, clinging to each other in an act of solidarity and comfort, and Castiel loved his family so much he thought his heart would explode.

From somewhere around the outskirts, Balthazar yelled, “Joy ride!”

“Shotgun!” Inias and Gabriel chimed simultaneously, and then immediately started arguing, the hug dissolving as they all started laughing, calling dibs for different seats on different drives, Michael having to step in and play mediator (but only after firmly announcing that he would be the front passenger on the second drive). Castiel took a step back, observing the scene with plenty enough amusement, just giving himself a moment to take a deep breath.

Things had changed so much for all of them. In a family that always waited for the next shoe to drop, they didn’t have to anymore, and Castiel would never get sick of watching the way they bickered, or the way Samandriel’s whole face had lit up when he spotted the tree and the presents, or even Gabriel and Balthazar teaming up to supply him with a lifetime of condoms (or, as Dean would probably suggest, just short of a year’s supply). It was Christmas morning, and they all loved each other, and everything was coming up. There were no conditions, no bad thing to brace for. It was just this.

As Castiel watched Gabriel and Inias start wrestling on the ground, still arguing over who would ride in the front seat, Castiel couldn’t help but to smile, and to smile big.

He could definitely get used to this.

~*~

The excitement of the holiday was certainly infectious—it didn’t even take until midday until Castiel and all of his siblings clustered around the living room of their own volition, lounging on top of each other lazily as they watched two Christmas movies in a row, all of them laughing at the same parts and all of them hiding their emotions when things took a turn for the sad. There were even minimal complaints when Michael revealed that he had gone to Goodwill and somehow had managed to locate the same sweater in all of their sizes, announcing that they will all wear them for dinner and handing them out excitedly like they were on an Oprah special. Castiel had been skeptical at first, but had relented once he had pulled it over his head and discovered that, not only was it warm, but it also was not scratchy, as he had initially anticipated. Anna had looked over at him, wearing her identical navy blue sweater of white reindeer and snowflakes, and they both hadn’t been able to stop themselves from smirking.

However, not long into the afternoon, Michael had shifted back into slight-panic mode, and they all got to work on a huge Christmas dinner. Castiel and Anna were put on the cutting station, while others were assigned ham, green bean casserole, vegetables, and potato stations. Samandriel was given the task of designing placemats for them and their guests, which he accepted with a solemn head nod, getting to work quickly at the kitchen table with a big bag of crayons and a stack of printer paper.

“Okay,” Michael said the moment they were all working like a well-oiled machine, looking slightly less like he was about to rip his hair out. “It’s looking good, everyone!”

Michael had given himself the noble job of the ham, and the pies—Castiel hadn’t wanted to alarm him, so he hadn’t said anything, but Castiel knew that Dean’s acceptance of his family probably hinged on those pies—so he was a little more stationary for the moment, making his way to the far side of the counter to thumb through recipes, chewing on his lip.

Gabriel suddenly laughed, and said, “Hey, Mike, remember when Mom was trying to make that pie back when Balthazar was like one, and she was wearing him on her chest like a harness, and the second she finished with the insides he flailed and the pie went absolutely everywhere?”

Michael burst out laughing, clearly remembering. Anna and Hael laughed at the mental image, and Balthazar just looked scandalized.

“I would never,” Balthazar insisted seriously, and then sniggered. “I never knew about that.”

“She made me and Gabriel help with the next one, because we laughed,” Michael replied, grinning. “I think it was apple. I just remember going to bed still shaking cinnamon from my hair.”

Castiel leaned back so he could look at Michael through the crowd and asked, “How about that time with the vacuum cleaner?”

Michael groaned like it pained him, and Gabriel burst into gleeful laughter. Hael glanced around from her spot at potatoes.

“Wait, what time with the vacuum cleaner?” she asked, too young to remember, and they launched into the story.

It just went on from there. As they worked, they exchanged stories from their childhoods, back from when there was slightly less children and their mother and slight chaos that had been hidden from their father simply because he hadn’t been the same kind of jovial spirit as Daphne. Michael told stories about when she tried to teach him to cook and his spaghetti stuck to the ceiling, and Gabriel about the times she caught him either sneaking in, sneaking out, or up to something. Balthazar talked about the times where he apparently used to do whatever he could to mess with a tiny Castiel and their mother had caught him trying to force Castiel into a bucket of ice water, and Castiel countered with how once Michael had to babysit them all for a night and their parents returned to find Balthazar on one of the higher branches of the tree in front of their home, unexplainably stuck to it by his boxers and crying. Anna talked about how one time their mother took her for ice cream and she got brain freeze and cried for two hours, and Hael laughed about how their mother once let her wear her high heels and Hael took one step and fell flat on her face, giving herself a bloody nose.

Inias and Samandriel laughed through the entirety, not having known their mother nearly long enough, but seeming to enjoy this snapshot into what it had been like living with her. And Castiel could tell Anna and Hael appreciated the extra stories, only having faint memories of the woman that they had known for longer, even if Castiel’s memories were only a year longer than Anna’s. Castiel, and he was sure his elder brothers would agree, was just happy at how nice this was—they were talking about their mother, recently buried but long since gone, and they were laughing. They were remembering her fondly and with smiles and laughs, the way she deserved to be remembered, and they weren’t sad. They were looking back, and it wasn’t in grief. They were looking back with smiles and good memories. They weren’t in pain.

Castiel was so grateful for it, even when it was at his expense, because he had to admit that he had missed his mother so much, but had always felt bad for having known her longer than his younger siblings. But, now, it wasn’t like he had simply known her longer—he just had more stories to share her with them, and he was able to allow them to get to know her that way. He told his younger siblings about a beautiful woman who believed in God and loved all of them with her whole heart, and it didn’t have to be sad. Castiel almost couldn’t believe how much Michael had smiled in the last few hours alone.

Christmas, to so many people, was central on family and tradition. Today, united, Castiel and his siblings recreated the holiday into their own, adding to it their own traditions and happy memories—and damn was it nice.

~*~

This time, when Castiel opened the door to let Dean in for a family dinner, instead of telling him to run, he said, “Merry Christmas. Don’t eat the pudding, Anna burnt it.”

“Alright,” Dean replied easily, smiling as he stepped forward to wind his arms around Castiel, his kiss chaste. “Merry Christmas, babe. Nice pimp car. And also nice sweater.”

Dean pinched the sweater in question in between two fingers, grinning in amusement. Castiel rolled his eyes at him and wiggled out of his hold, shutting the door behind them. Dean held out a small wrapped gift for Castiel, smiling angelically, and Castiel smiled back before doing the same, only it was flat and clearly a book. Still, Dean grinned wide and weighed it in his hands before putting it in his jacket pocket, hanging the leather jacket on a hook. He eyed the extra jackets.

“Holy hell,” he remarked. “You really weren’t kidding when you said like six people were coming over.”

Castiel sent him a hunted look. Dean rolled his eyes but ducked forward to steal another kiss, running his hands through Castiel’s hair. Castiel melted against him, breathing in deep.

He kissed the side of Dean’s neck and murmured, “I love you. Thank you for coming.”

“Anytime, Cas,” Dean replied, chucking him under his chin and laughing when Castiel frowned. “I love you too, babe, but Michael’s standing right behind you and looking at me like he’s very angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Michael sighed, and Castiel turned sheepishly to find his brother was shaking his head, grinning. “I hope you know you’re late. Everyone’s already sitting at the table.”

“Well then we best not waste anymore time,” Dean replied, smiling innocently. Dean had been spending a lot of time around the Novak house in the last few weeks, arguing for a change of scenery from his basement, and had thus gotten to know Castiel’s siblings enough to be much more comfortable with them. While Dean hadn’t interacted with Michael nearly as often, Castiel’s eldest brother just had a way with knowing how people behaved and preparing accordingly, and Dean loved messing with him.

It was a good rhythm. Castiel was really beginning to like how seamlessly Dean fit into this house, like there was a puzzle piece carved out just for him.

“Ignore him,” Castiel told Dean, grinning. “He’s just nervous because he asked the office’s secretary to be his guest and he doesn’t know how to flirt with her outside of memos.”

Michael rolled his eyes but quickly turned away, probably to hide his embarrassment, and waved fleetingly for them to join him as he turned around and strode back in the direction of the dining room. Castiel paused to exchange a grin with Dean before following, dragging Dean behind him as he went, like he was still afraid of him making a run for it after all of these weeks, even though he knew Dean never would.

The second Castiel and Dean walked in, hand-in-hand, Gabriel hooted.

“About time you got here, pretty boy!” Gabriel called, smirking. “Michael was gonna have to make his big speech without your moral support!”

Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel, figuring if he let this go on for too long that it would somehow go spiraling out of control, just shook his head and tugged on Dean’s hand, guiding him to where their seats were sitting vacated, thankfully on the opposite side of the table. Castiel settled down between Dean and Hael at the same moment that Michael rose from his spot at the head of the table, looking sheepish.

“I do have a speech,” he admitted, and smiled when the others laughed.

“Oh, here we go,” Gabriel muttered, rolling his eyes and taking a large swig of his eggnog, which in turn made his girlfriend sitting at his side, a stern but kind woman named Kali, sigh disapprovingly. Michael, used to ignoring Gabriel much more than acknowledging him, didn’t even blink anymore.

Bela, Balthazar’s guest and probably the greatest match against Castiel’s brother that could ever exist, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Balthazar, who had been taking a sip of wine, choked.

“This year has been one of the longest in the lives of this family,” Michael began, and Castiel felt the sobering effect the words had on the room, commanding their attention. “We have gone through many trials and tribulations through the last several months, perhaps most of all only in the last few weeks. Through all of these happenings, despite all of the differences between some of us set by distance, we were able to band together into a cohesive unit against the obstacles set up for us, and we were able to conquer them. Here we are, at the end of this tough year, having refused to back down in the face of the terrifying, the acceptance, and the consequences. Every single one of us has been able to soldier through, and now we’re coming up on the beginning of a new year, the first of which after our new start. And I am glad that I can say with great pride and relief for all of us that we have finally made it.”

Dean’s hand wrapped around Castiel’s under the table, squeezing, and Castiel squeezed it back. From directly across the table, Garth turned to smile reassuringly at Anna, who was beginning to look a little teary-eyed.

Michael was wearing a big smile as he continued, “We have all gone through a great deal to make it this far, and I am proud of each and every one of us for it. We have defeated our demons and have laid to rest our greatest fears. We have faced a struggle unlike most have ever known, and we have come out victorious. And no matter what anyone else says or believes, and no matter what challenges may arise in the coming years, I am more proud of all of you than I can put into words. There’s no way to describe the strength every single one of you have shown in these difficult months, and I have spent every moment of it in awe of all of you. We made it. After everything, we made it.

“So, conceited or not, I would like to propose a toast for us,” Michael said, reaching for his wine glass, his smile peaceful. “Here’s to all that we’ve made it through, and all that we are prepared to face when it comes. Here’s to sticking together, and to making a new life for us. Here’s to beating the odds, and proving them wrong.” Michael held up his glass. “Here’s to us.”

“Here’s to us,” Castiel and the rest of his siblings cheered, holding their glasses high in the air, before taking a drink together, all of them united in solidarity, knowing they didn’t have to run anymore, and that they made it through the storm. Castiel glanced to Anna as he lowered his glass and found her turning to look at him too, Garth’s arm around her shoulders, and she sent him a wide, happy smile. He shared a smile back, squeezing Dean’s hand tightly under the table as he turned back to look at Michael, who was still standing, waiting for their attention to turn back to him.

“Let’s not forget the people that helped us get to this point,” Michael continued, his eyes flickering to the woman named Hannah sitting at his side, and Castiel saw Hael covering her smirk with her glass. “Without their support, given knowingly as well as unknowingly, it would have been harder for us to make it to where we are now. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we will never be able to thank you all enough for everything that you’ve done. This one is to them.”

Everyone raised their glasses and echoed the sentiment as expected, taking their sips per tradition. Michael sat back down in his seat once they had, offering a slightly embarrassed smile to his date, but Castiel was already turning his attention away, looking instead toward the young man sitting at his side, his gaze softening immediately once it fell on Dean’s face. Dean turned to look at him like some instinct recognized Castiel’s attention, and a soft attractive smile curled across his face, Castiel finding himself smiling back, because there was no reason not to. It was all over. It was Christmas, and it was a magical day of happiness that they had spent with the people they loved the most, and everything was going good. For once, everything just kept going good in their lives, and there looked to be no end in sight.

Castiel wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, this time last year. Him and his siblings would have only just been returning from volunteering, preparing to sit around a table for a tense and silent dinner before they would trudge upstairs and go to sleep, exchanging presents in secret in the following days during moments they knew they would never be spotted. And now he was sitting at a dinner table with his family, the man he loved at his side, his palm warm against Castiel’s, listening to all of them laugh, and he couldn’t believe that there had been a time of his life that hadn’t been this brightly euphoric, this beautifully simple.

It had taken a while, and they had all wandered but, eventually, they found their way here. They found their happiness and their peace and their safety. They found the start of their forever. And Castiel wouldn’t change a thing.

Dean caught his gaze and smiled back, reaching over to run his fingers across Castiel’s cheek, trailing back into his hair, his touch loving, almost reverent. Dean smiled at Castiel like he was caught up in it, drunk off of it, and Castiel couldn’t help but to feel the same way when he looked back into the eyes that had pulled him from a storm, feeling the softness in his gaze as he looked at Dean the way he deserved to be looked at—treasured, loved.

No. Castiel wouldn’t change a thing.

“Aw, Kali, look at those cutie pies,” Gabriel’s voice cut through everything else, obnoxiously drawing all attention to his overly affectionate, clearly mocking words. Castiel joined the others in turning to see who he was talking about, and only felt foreboding when he realized it was him and Dean, Gabriel’s smile mimicking one of the cat who caught the canary. Kali sent him a warning look that he promptly ignored to coo, “Aw, you two are so cute, Cassie Poo. Lord knows how you’re still a virgin with the way that pretty boy looks at you.”

Castiel was still stuck wondering what would be the best of his comebacks when Dean instead took the initiative, smirking smugly at Gabriel before demanding innocently across the length of the crowded dinner table, “Who says he’s still a virgin?”

It took a moment before the question hit, and then Gabriel was throwing his head back and absolutely _roaring_ with laughter, the kind of which that seemed to be contagious because, before Castiel was sure his heart could take it, the majority of his siblings and their guests were joining in. Hannah pressed her lips together tightly against a smile while Michael sighed in devastation from his spot at the head of the family of idiots, shaking his head fondly and a little disapprovingly at their antics, and Castiel knew that Michael would deny the grin he could clearly see spreading over his face in amusement.

Castiel turned to shoot Dean a venomous glare, to which Dean responded with a lazy grin, raising his eyebrows in a silent question asking for forgiveness, as if Castiel would ever be truly angry at him for finding a place for himself in Castiel’s family, slowly becoming an unquestioned place at his side. Castiel tugged Dean forward enough so he could meet him halfway, laying his forehead on Dean’s and nudging their noses together, smiling to mirror Dean’s own.

“Ugh,” Gabriel muttered somewhere off in the distance. “And at the table, no less.”

But it was nothing other than good-natured, fond, because all of them were finally happy. Castiel could sit at a table this close to Dean, existing with him in peace in the corner of the universe they carved out to fit them, sharing a silence that didn’t need to be filled as the chatter and chaos continued on around them, soft fingers tangled together like a poorly-kept secret under the table. Castiel peeked up at Dean’s eyes, feeling like his heart would explode from how much he loved him, and found Dean already looking at him, his smile widening when Castiel finally caught on.

Dean whispered _I love you_ into the air between them, and Castiel echoed it right back, closing his eyes, the contentment almost too much to bear.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, as Emmanuel Novak sat behind bars for his crimes, his children sat among the people they loved the most in the whole world, and they finally knew they were free.

Castiel took in a deep breath, holding it in his chest until it started to hurt, like wings beating against the bars of a cage, keeping there all of the sorrow and fear and hopelessness he had felt over the last few years; and then finally, finally, he smiled, and he let it all go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only an epilogue remains! Thank you all for reading this story. You're all amazing.
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> xo Kay


	22. Epilogue: Fixed Fate, Free Will, Foreknowledge Absolute

_Six Months Later_

Victor Henriksen eyed him nervously before asking Castiel for what had to be the thirtieth time, “Are you sure about this?”

Castiel nodded, squaring his shoulders. It had taken a long time to come to this decision, and then longer still to convince himself to go through with it, but he had come so far—standing inside of ADX Florence in the middle of nowhere in the Rockies, wearing a badge stating he was a visitor after passing all of the security scans, knowing full well that in only minutes he would be facing his worst nightmare. Castiel took a long deep breath before nodding again, meeting Victor’s gaze as he replied surely, “I have to do this. I have to.”

“Okay,” Victor replied, not sounding nearly as confident as Castiel knew he must sound. As if he couldn’t help it, the FBI agent added, “Because no one is asking you to do it. You can back out at any time.”

“I know,” Castiel said, and he did.

Victor nodded slowly, allowing for Castiel to stand his ground, but his gaze was still curious, still questioning. Castiel didn’t think Victor had understood what he was doing ever since he first called him months ago, asking how he would be able to go about this visitation process, and then later in the same phone call requesting strongly that Victor not inform Michael of it. Victor still didn’t really understand why Castiel was doing this, but he had answered all of his questions and had insisted on going as far as he could with him into the supermax prison, even keeping his word and not telling Michael. Victor had been an ally to Castiel and his family for a long time, and Castiel wished he had a better way to tell him that but, when he had tried, Victor had waved him off and told him that it was nothing, and not to worry about it. Castiel hoped that was enough, and that Victor understood. He liked to think that he did, but he was the kind of person like Dean that didn’t always want to hear it.

Castiel looked back to the door, feeling his stomach roll.

It had been one thing to think up the idea in his head, to consider doing it, than it was to be standing here, having it about to be done. Castiel had entertained the idea not long into the New Year that he had wanted to face his father again, one last time, for whatever twisted sense of closure he felt that it would give him. Dean had been the only one he told, nervously suggesting it as their first destination for the road trip they were planning for after graduation, and while Dean hadn’t been able to completely understand, he had still been supportive, and that support had managed to go a long way.

Castiel knew his siblings would not have been supportive, mostly because they would have believed they were looking out for his best interests, and they would have had a point. Castiel had experienced plentiful trauma because of the man in this prison, and he didn’t owe him another minute of his time. But that really wasn’t the point anymore; it wasn’t about that, or even facing his fears, but instead something churning deeper under the surface, needing to be acknowledged.

Castiel had been through so much, and it had all been at the hands of this man. Emmanuel had beaten Castiel bloody, and he had ensnared him with additional mental and emotional abuse, and he had wanted to train Castiel into a carbon copy of himself. Castiel had every right in the world to never look back, but he had to, because he had something to say to his father that he wanted to say in person, and he had to say it so he would be truly free from him.

He knew that Michael and Anna and the rest wouldn’t have understood, so he would tell them later, when they might begin to. But, for now, it was to be a secret kept between only a few people, and a secret that was about to go active.

Victor must have noticed he was starting to feel nauseous because he assured him once again, “I can come in with you, if you need me to. It’s absolutely allowed, and no one would blame you.”

“I need to do this alone,” Castiel told him again, taking a deep breath. “I’m just nervous. Reasonably so, I suppose. This is the first real time I have to face my father knowing all the names of the people he killed.”

Victor’s expression was sympathetic, but he didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Castiel didn’t expect him to say anything, and instead turned back to the doorway where he would soon walk through, and he would be facing his father one more time.

Victor, the Warden, and the officer in charge of visitors must have walked him through the procedure half a dozen times in only the last hour, but Castiel was almost grateful to have the procedures to think about repeatedly in the anxious moments leading up to the meeting. Emmanuel would be led into an isolated visiting room trailed by a guard and Castiel would join them. Due to the nature of Emmanuel’s crimes, he would still be handcuffed, for what that counted, and they would be monitoring him through video a little extra carefully. It was more than a little bit of a relief for Castiel to see that the staff at this facility were not nearly easily fooled by his father’s friendly manner, managing to see straight through him. Knowing that they were on his side was a little extra bit of encouragement, and Castiel knew he could do it.

An officer leaned into his radio slightly, hovering next to the door with Victor, before he nodded into air. He turned to Castiel and said, “It’s ready whenever you are. Want me to buzz you in?”

Castiel glanced at Victor almost without meaning to and received another meaningful look that he all but ignored. Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, centering his breathing the way he had learned to, and nodded as he opened his eyes again, acknowledging the officer.

“Yes,” he said, bravely as he may, but his hands were shaking. “I’m ready.”

Victor didn’t say anything as the officer relayed the information, and the door before them buzzed loudly as it was unlocked. Castiel nodded in what he hoped was encouragement to the FBI agent before he stepped through the doorway, steeling himself, but was still unprepared for the sight of his father seated at the other end of a table only a few feet away, smiling.

Castiel let out air like he had been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. From behind him, the door swung shut firmly, leaving him locked in a room with an officer and his father, and it suddenly almost sounded like the setup to a bad joke.

Emmanuel smiled at him brightly from the other side of the table, his handcuffed hands folded in front of him. He looked distinctly pleased, almost relieved, and Castiel couldn’t even be sure if it was an act as his father looked at him and said, “It is truly great to see you again, Castiel.”

Castiel nodded slowly, although the sentiments were not necessarily echoed. He mechanically took two steps closer to the chair open for him, looking at his father closely as he moved. He had almost expected his father to look different, changed from the time he has spent behind bars, but there was nothing more than a scar over his eye that looked weeks old. He was neatly shaved and his hair was cut the same as it always had been, his shoulders square as he sat up straight and properly polite in his seat. His eyes, though, were the part that always tripped people up after the revelation, when he didn’t have to hide anymore—they were cold and merciless, following Castiel’s every movement with unrestrained glee. He was _proud_ of Castiel, for having come to see him. He thought he was getting his way, knowing that after everything, he had managed to morph Castiel into the kind of person that needed to keep coming to see him.

Emmanuel must have thought many things about Castiel in those months that Castiel did not think of him the last year. As Castiel lowered himself slowly into the seat, separated from his father by only a couple of feet, the only thing that he could keep thinking was, _How did I not see through him?_

Castiel remembered his father in different ways, but now his father just looked so . . . _wrong_. Where he used to look like a staple of society, someone to be looked up to, he just looked weathered and dangerous. Emmanuel Novak used to be the greatest at hiding in plain sight, but Castiel could have seen him coming from miles away.

Emmanuel Novak wasn’t even the perfect criminal that Castiel had let himself think he was. He wasn’t the perfect monster. He was human, and he was sitting in the same jumpsuit he would die in, and it was Castiel’s fault for letting himself believe he was anything but what he was.

Castiel took a deep breath as he settled down across from his father, his skin crawling with the intensity of his father’s focus on him. Emmanuel noticed his unease, and smiled.

“I wish it were more private, so I would feel more comfortable in all of the things I want to say to you,” Emmanuel began, something sinister behind the pleasantries in his voice, “but that is neither here nor there. You must have graduated high school recently, have you not? Congratulations, son. It must have been a trying time, what with this . . . circus.”

A circus. Castiel had been through the worst months of his life because of this man, and the most Emmanuel had to say about it was the media frenzy. Castiel could have hit him, if he had less self-control, but he was different now. Castiel was different. He would not let his father crawl back under his skin, because that was no longer the place that he belonged.

“Yes, I did,” Castiel replied, leaving out the specifics. Emmanuel waited for more, and his mouth ticked up disapprovingly when it did not come.

“I should have known that you would be the first of my children to visit me,” Emmanuel told him, sounding almost proud. He looked at Castiel calmly, pinning him there with his gaze. “However, I would have put my money on Michael, if such a bet existed. Where is your brother, or your other siblings?”

“Home,” Castiel responded calmly, staring back just as confidently. “They’re at home. All of them.”

His father’s eyebrows rose.

“All of them?” Emmanuel demanded, surprised, and then laughed. The sound echoed around the walls. The guard off to the side flinched ever so slightly. “So you came here on your own? That is very brave of you, Castiel, to make this voyage on your own. I would have expected you to bring one of your younger sisters with you, at the very least. But you have spent most all of your life proving me wrong, so I suppose it is my own folly to have underestimated you.”

Castiel could have counted very high into the number of times his father had underestimated him, many of which in ways that would have surprised his father, but Castiel chose to stick to his script that he had prepared for himself. He knew what he was there to say, and he knew what he would not dare offer his father.

Emmanuel thought that this was his meeting to control. Castiel’s father could not be more incorrect.

“I came here to ask you a couple of questions,” Castiel confessed, tilting his head curiously as he looked at his father in the bright yellow jumpsuit, hands cuffed together and attached to a chain around his waist. He looked so much like a caged animal now. He looked trapped in the way Castiel had felt trapped all of those years.

Emmanuel raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I suppose these questions involve words?”

Castiel ignored the antagonizing and simply asked, “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do it?” Castiel’s father replied incredulously, like he couldn’t believe it, like he wanted to laugh but he was also so, so disappointed. “Oh, Castiel, you know the answer to that question. You’re much smarter than that.”

Castiel did know. He understood the way his father’s mind worked, as much as he will ever be able to. He knew it was about predatory behavior, needing to be the best. It was domination and fear and control. Yes, he knew that much. What he didn’t understand was Emmanuel’s _motivation_ , and his father was just as intelligent—he knew that was what Castiel was asking underneath of it all, and he wasn’t going to answer. He was disappointed that Castiel didn’t inherently understand, that his instincts didn’t sing the same sadistic tune.

Emmanuel looked at him intently, his stare unnerving. “You came here because you want to understand the way I think before you can—what? Be free of my mental presence? Is that what drives you, Castiel? A need to understand, and be free?”

Castiel had known that it was a bad idea to see his father, mostly because he knew his father would be able to read him and use that against him, like a knife to each nerve. But, thankfully, because he _had_ known, Castiel was prepared for the blow, and it wasn’t nearly as devastating as the one his father had meant to deliver, playing mind games until the very end.

“I suppose it very well might be,” Castiel allowed, shrugging. “Call it a character flaw. In fact, you may call it whatever you like. In not answering, you have actually given me the answer to my question, and thus making me content in my knowledge. All I needed was for you to cement that piece, and that is what you’ve done.”

A nerve jumped in Emmanuel’s jaw. He didn’t like the way Castiel was talking to him, the tone and the manner of speech, both disrespecting him and disregarding him as a threat. If Emmanuel knew how to play offense, then Castiel was the best in the league at defense.

He had come too far to fail now. Not even his father could deny him what he wanted to know.

“When you first heard I was coming here, what did you think?” Castiel asked next, pushing and pushing like it was a rock up a hill, trying to crest the peak. Emmanuel leaned back in his chair, pursing his lips like he was considering the answer, but Castiel knew that his father was instead appraising him, changing his mentality and his stance, playing a constant chess game of guessing and attacking and retreating. Castiel waited, hands folded patiently on the table.

“I thought that you were coming here because you needed me for something,” his father allowed, “although that turned out to be correct, in a way. But I thought it was regarding more sensitive topics, ones of which we have in common, than having you ask me inane questions to which you already know the answer.”

Castiel had been composed, unreadable, but he knew that his surprise read on his face with his father’s admission. He had expected his father to assume the notion, to think that Castiel was coming to see him because he needed him, as murderous and monstrous as Emmanuel himself, but Castiel did not think that he would outright admit it as such, especially not with witnesses. The guard straightened slightly, just out of the corner of Castiel’s eye, and Castiel’s hands gripped each other a little tighter on the table. Emmanuel sat patiently, watching him squirm, watching that blade sink deeper and deeper into that nerve.

“You believe I was here because I wanted to learn to be you,” Castiel said slowly, his heart beating in his throat. “You have believed for a long time that I was your soldier, one of your unconquerable archangels that you could use as a weapon in your arsenal. I know what you thought I was, and think I still am. You think I am a killer, like you. You think your legacy will live on in me, because you see me reflected back in you.”

Emmanuel smiled. It might’ve been kind.

“You _do_ have it in you, Castiel, and we both know it,” Emmanuel said, seeming, like Castiel, to be entirely disregarding what is probably a disproportionately large audience for a normal visitation. “I have seen it in you in your moments of weakness, in the times I have endeavored to make you loyal and stronger than the rest of your siblings. And it seems I have succeeded, although you would argue against it, as you are here. You have made the journey to see me, like a religious pilgrimage. You will be better than I was, Castiel, because I have taught you to be. Don’t you see?”

“I see,” Castiel told him, and he did. He saw the way that Emmanuel must have envisioned the future, knowing his structure of living would crumble at some point, but he would have insurance outside, fulfilling the things he preached. He always believed that Castiel, no matter how much he fought it, would eventually fold, and he would succumb to his father’s teachings, because that was the way he was wired.

Emmanuel had manufactured him into a monster. And they both knew how monsters were.

But Castiel knew something else.

Emmanuel was not finished with his lecture, his hands tugging against the chains that bound them as he gestured, preaching, “You will be the best of them all, Castiel, if you let yourself. The FBI, they would be watching, and you would still win, because you are divine. Don’t you understand? Even now, I am a god among these walls. The others, the scum of the earth, they have folded to my authority, because I am better than them. They fear me because I deserve to be feared, and I endeavor to be. I am more than them, more than _man_ , and they know it. No matter where you walk, the seas will part for you. Don’t you _understand_ , Castiel?”

Castiel could not believe his father, with his wild eyes and skewed logic, had ever captivated anyone. It was almost astonishing, to think of the man that Emmanuel once was, already losing his grip only months into his sentencing.

It was almost sad, if Castiel had the capacity to have pity for the man. But, as things would have it, he didn’t.

Castiel’s hands clasped on the table were shaking. “Do you want to know what I think?” Castiel asked. Emmanuel, eyes wild, looked like he wanted to laugh.

“I do, Castiel,” his father told him. “I want to understand you, as much as you wish to understand me.”

“Very well,” Castiel said, and then leaned forward to speak lowly, honestly, and seriously: “I think you’re a psychopath.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Emmanuel, who had been expecting Castiel to keep playing the game, immediately leaned back, raw surprise flickering across his face. Castiel kept his gaze focused and even, not wavering from his father’s face, and didn’t even give Emmanuel the time to try and stop him.

“You’re unhinged,” Castiel told him strongly and clearly, watching as rage filled his father’s face in surprise’s stead. “You believe an illusion, a fantasy, that will never come to pass. You believe yourself to be a messiah because you don’t want to believe you’re simply a man, and you have played a game your entire life that you have lost. You’re not still in charge, Emmanuel, even if you think you are. You live in a constant delusion, thinking that people are in your control. You think that my siblings and I still feel a connection to you, emotional because you’re our father or spiritual because of what you’ve taught us, but none of us believe in you anymore. We know better, and we _believe_ better. No—you live in this world where you’re in control, and you believe that I am your soldier on the outside, but I never have been. It’s all been nothing more than a construct, because that’s the way you people think, but I am not afraid of you anymore, Emmanuel. You can’t control me now. And I think a little piece of you knows that, and it makes you fear me. And that’s how you know you are human, and you are not a god—because I _scare_ you.”

Emmanuel was turning an alarming shade of red, but he did not say a word.

“Isn’t that right, Emmanuel?” Castiel murmured, pressing for a response.

His father’s eye twitched but, otherwise, he allowed no response. It was what Castiel had expected, and it was an outcome he would gladly accept.

“Your world is crumbling,” Castiel told him, because it was fact. “This is the last time you will see any of your children. I have learned what free will is, and I am no longer your pawn. You are incarcerated, and you will never know true freedom again. This is the end of your supreme reign, Emmanuel. That must leave a sour taste.”

His father’s face had contorted into a bitter rictus as Castiel spoke. Even as the room faded into a tense silence, the edges of Emmanuel’s mouth twitched, like he was absolutely dying to argue, to fly off the handle and put Castiel back into his place.

But he would not, because that would be admitting that Castiel was under his skin. Castiel did not need the confirmation—he knew the effect of his words. He knew how to destroy Emmanuel Novak.

“I am going to school in the fall, and I will be studying how to track down and expose monsters like you,” Castiel told his father. “I will study psychopaths and sociopaths, and I will know that I am not one of them. I am not a sleeper cell, but you _have_ made me into a weapon—just not one in your favor. I know enough about people like you to be able to stop them, and I will be the real kind of righteous that you never preached. And you will be _here_ , rotting away with a life sentence, knowing that all of your contingencies have backfired on you.”

“You think you know me, Castiel,” his father said, his voice tight with the effort of restraining his clear rage. “You do not.”

“I do,” Castiel begged to differ, “because you taught me how to think like other people. And, no matter what you believe, you are nothing more than a person. I just wish I had realized that sooner.”

Emmanuel sat dormant as Castiel slowly got to his feet, rising to his full height. Castiel held out his hands.

“The moment I walk out that door, you’re going to be alone forever,” Castiel told him, “and I am going to be free. That is the result of your gospel, Emmanuel. That is the system of your beliefs. This, right here, is the end.”

Castiel had never seen so many emotions on his father’s face, not like this—not the hardness of rage and the cold surprise and the muted terror, the realization that Castiel was not bluffing but instead telling him the truth, letting him know that this was it. Emmanuel would rot alone in this prison for the rest of his life, and there would be no rapture of his teachings. It was all over the moment Castiel walked out that door. Castiel saw the moment his father revealed his panic, hidden under it all, and that was when Castiel finally knew he had won.

“Castiel,” Emmanuel said, but Castiel just smiled, hands at his sides.

“I’m free,” he said, and then took one step back, toward the door he would walk out of, and he watched his father watch him, watching the end, so close to falling over the edge, and Castiel knew how to give the final push. “I’m leaving now—my boyfriend is waiting by the car, and I wouldn’t want to keep him.”

Castiel had pushed and pushed and _pushed_ on Emmanuel’s self-control, bringing him right to the brink of exploding, and he knew that dropping his sexual orientation would be the final nail to the coffin if he needed one. That was the final test on Emmanuel’s tolerance, the last blow to send his control tumbling to the ground, and the response was instant. Emmanuel turned bright red, rage curling onto his face with a hint of disgust and betrayal, and the skin of his wrists started cutting into the cuffs. Castiel knew, if he hadn’t been secured to the chair, Emmanuel would have been on his feet, but his chains prevented him, and there was something so extremely satisfying about knowing that his father was trapped.

In one visit, Castiel had taken all of Emmanuel’s expectations, all of his insurance, down to his idea of Castiel following in his marital footsteps, and turned it all upside down. It was over, and it was burning to the ground, and Emmanuel was finally realizing that he was losing absolutely everything.

Castiel turned around and started for the door.

“Castiel,” his father screamed, filled with rage, and Castiel could practically feel the heat of it on his back but he ignored him, waiting patiently for the door to let him out. He heard the chains pulling, his father struggling to break free, but he wouldn’t. “Castiel! Don’t you _dare_ walk out that door! _Castiel_! Castiel, _look at me_!”

Castiel didn’t turn around, and he would not. As his father continued to scream his name, the door opened and Victor Henriksen stood on the other side, face pulled tight to hide any hint of emotion. Castiel took a deep breath and he kept walking away from his father, finally feeling a piece of himself breaking free.

“ _Castiel!_ ” his father screamed, and then the door slammed shut, and all that was left was silence.

Castiel let out his breath, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, Victor was still looking at him, but this time there were emotions on his face, and they looked a little bit like awe. Victor raised his eyebrows when Castiel finally looked at him.

“You good?” Victor demanded, glancing back over Castiel’s shoulder to the door beyond before his eyes moved back to his face, searching it curiously. “Did you say what you wanted to say?”

Castiel nodded.

Victor looked intensely curious, but he also seemed to know better than to ask. He just nodded mutely, signaling to a nearby guard that they were leaving, and the guard opened the gate, allowing them to leave. Even then, Castiel didn’t look back—he was freed from the chains that Emmanuel was now bound with, and he didn’t have to constantly keep looking over his shoulder anymore. He was free, and he walked through the gates his father would never see the other side of, and he couldn’t help but to breathe a long sigh of relief.

It had been a long and exhausting journey, but Castiel had finally made it. He was finally free.

Victor didn’t say anything until they were gone from the gates and Castiel was turning in his visitor’s pass to the CO over the counter, finally stepped closer to him and catching his attention. Castiel turned away from the CO, free to go, and faced the FBI agent, allowing Victor to say his piece.

“You could have gone a lot of ways,” Victor began slowly, thoughtfully. “With what I heard back there, you could have done a lot of things, raised that way, but you haven’t. You’re continuing to stand against what your father believed, and what he wanted you to be. I know it might not matter much to you but, from someone who sees a lot of bad things and people, I’m really proud of you for being better than him. That in there took a lot of guts.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, feeling gratitude stirring in his chest. Victor nodded slowly, still analyzing him, before he reached out and offered Castiel his hand to shake. Castiel took it.

“Good luck, Castiel,” Victor told him, really meaning it, and Castiel smiled at him in response.

“Thank you, Agent Henriksen,” Castiel said, and then took another deep breath. “I think it will be easier now.”

Victor just reached out and patted him firmly on the shoulder, a fatherly gesture, before stepping back and letting him go, smirking. “Now get the hell out of here—like you said, you’ve got a boyfriend roasting outside ready to get the hell on the road.”

Castiel laughed and nodded, letting Victor’s words guide him to the door, but he paused before he could walk through them. For the first time, he looked back, but this time he looked back at the FBI agent that changed his and his family’s lives, suddenly at a loss of what to say. He wanted to thank him, to show him how grateful he was for everything, but nothing felt like enough—so Castiel just lifted his hand into a lame wave before turning around and pushing through the doors, stepping out into the open air.

~*~

Dean was leaning against the hood of the Impala, his head angled up toward the sun, when Castiel reached him. Dean must have heard his footsteps approaching because he looked up as Castiel was feet away, a smile spreading over his face. He shrugged away from the car and met Castiel halfway, his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyebrows raised inquiringly.

“So?” Dean prompted. “How’d it go?”

“As expected,” Castiel replied honestly, shrugging. The hot early-summer sun beat down on them overhead, and Castiel spotted a hint of pink sunburn setting in on the bridge of Dean’s nose. “He didn’t like much of what I had to say—it was very enjoyable.”

Dean snorted, smirking as he pulled Castiel closer by the front of his shirt, pressing his lips to his forehead. Castiel smiled, pulling away far enough that he could look at Dean, fingers softly curling into the hem of his shirt.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Castiel offered, feeling his chest heat up pleasantly as Dean laughed, ducking forward to steal a kiss before backing away, Castiel’s hands lingering on his chest.

“Baby, it’s like you’ve read my mind,” Dean told him, winking, as they finally pulled away, wandering over to their sides of the Impala. Dean leaned onto the hood of the car, peering at Castiel, a soft smile playing over his lips. “So where to, Number One?”

Castiel pursed his lips, thinking about it, before he let a slow grin spread over his face. He looked back toward Dean, practically simpering, feeling so free that he might float off into the atmosphere.

“Let’s go to an ocean,” Castiel suggested. Dean grinned back, and the look in his eyes was almost devious.

“Which one?”

Castiel smiled, coquettish. “Surprise me.”

Dean laughed and ducked to slide into the car, Castiel following suit until they were both settled onto the comfortable level of the Impala, their safe haven for the rest of the summer, until their road trip must come to an end and they have to return to Kansas for school. But, until then, it would just be Castiel and Dean on the road with nothing holding them back, free to be themselves, and Castiel felt like he had never been able to properly breathe until this moment.

As Dean turned the key, igniting the engine, Castiel leaned his head back to look at him and murmured, “I love you.”

Dean looked back at him with a bright smile, the radio crooning rock and roll and the purr of the Impala like a lullaby. Dean shifted the car into drive, his eyes soft and fond and loving and everything Castiel’s ever dreamed for them to be when this beautiful boy looked at him.

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean told him, smiling. Castiel reflected that smile back, leaning back into the seat, stomach twisting in anticipation of what was to come, so happy he almost couldn’t bare it, ready to start the rest of his life with this boy he loved. Dean asked, “Ready?”

“Ready,” Castiel replied.

And then they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! Thank you to all of my readers who have stuck with me through this whole journey. I hope you all have loved this story even a fraction of how much I loved it. It was a pleasure to go on this journey with you :) 
> 
> My Tumblr: shortenedlanguage.tumblr.com
> 
> x Kay


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